The Pacifist's Daughter
by JScorpio
Summary: Colonel Tavington,Captain Bordon,original heroine, Captain Wilkins.Melanie Prescott,from a family of well known pacifists,becomes a pawn between the Redcoats and rebels.A brutal attack on her farm,rumors about her,the chaos of war, and two British officers wreak havoc in her life. Mature content. ENJOY!
1. Chapter 1 Standing Firm In The Sight Of

Author's note: Okay...I started this story late 2002 and it is ongoing, never published here before. I have first 21 chapters done, but am struggling on last few chapters after that. Thanks to friend and fellow writer Slytherindragoon for help, support, and encouragement to bring this story out. I will push hard to finish this fic and not "leave it hanging" although it won't be as timely as "The Boundary" and "Bordon's Girl" because those were already finished and just revised them as they published chapter by chapter.

Also, hang in there. I know there is alot of Bordon in this story, but stay tuned-there is alot of Tavington in it, as well. I promise if you Tavvy-o-philes stick around, you will be rewarded!

Thanks for reading!

**THE PACIFIST'S DAUGHTER**

**PLOT SUMMARY:** During the Revolutionary war, a well known pacifist's daughter, Melanie Prescott, becomes a pawn between the English and the rebel Colonists, considered valuable by both sides. Mystery surrounds the young woman due to rumors that abound within the British and Colonial Rebel militaries and citizenry of the surrounding area-rumors questioning her supposed level of pacifism and allegiances, making things worse for her. A brutal attack on her family's plantation by an extremist faction, the havoc of war, and her relationships with two Dragoon officers turn the young woman's life upside down.

**MAIN CHARACTERS: **Colonel William Tavington, Major Alexander Bordon, Miss Melanie Prescott

_November 1778 South Carolina, near Camden…_

Chapter 1 Standing Firm In The Sight Of Radicals

The Prescott family sat down to their first Sunday dinner together in months. The oldest son, 19 year old Matthew, had been away at seminary school studying for the priesthood. He was home now on holiday and the family was glad to have him there.

Matthew, dressed in his priest garb complete with black and white collar, gave the blessing. The feast of roast chicken was then passed from person to person. The family quickly settled in to food and conversation, relaxing as they did.

Suddenly, the calm was pierced with the sound of a gunshot and breaking glass.

"Get down!" exclaimed Matthew.

Mrs. Prescott immediately threw herself to the floor. There, she scooped up her two youngest children, 13 year old Jonathon and 10 year old Josie, putting her arms about them in a protective manner. The oldest child, 21 year old daughter Melanie, was on the floor at the opposite end of the dining room, shielding her head.

"Stay here," Hayden Prescott commanded. He rose cautiously and crept watchfully to the door with Matthew close behind. He stood for a tense moment, listening for noise outside of his house.

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Hayden Prescott was the most well known pacifist of the time. Even before the outbreak of war in the Colonies, he had sensed trouble on the horizon. He then began his efforts to resolve the rising tensions between England and the war could not be prevented, he worked diligently to find a peaceful resolution to the conflict and end the struggle.

Mr. Prescott was well known in both the Colonies and England for his attempts at peace, working closely with both sides. He was well respected for his tireless efforts. His family shared his pacifistic views, as well, often helping him, and they were admired wide and far for this.

The Prescotts were wealthy, owning a huge, profitable plantation and a large amount of land in South Carolina. Hayden had parlayed this land into a comfortable living for his family. His farm boasted a vast orchard of various fruits, including patches of strawberries and grape arbors. The bulk of the fruits were harvested and sold to the neighboring Wilkins family for their wine and brandy business. Though Prescott was rich, he wanted peace and the end of war for all mankind, both poor and wealthy.

Hayden had many powerful friends and enemies on both sides of the conflict. Men of power on each side were climbing over each other to persuade him to work with them, or eventually "join their side". They wanted his power and influence. It wasn't hard for Hayden to stay on the fence in the middle, wanting equal tranquility for both sides. Truly, he was a very valuable man to have around.

Conversely, Mr. Prescott had many enemies on both sides, as well. There were always those who thought he was working "too" closely with one side or the other, thus being influenced to lean more in the favor of one party as versus the other. There were some who were angry at him, either thinking he was conceding too much for their side, or compromising the wrong things.

Out of the opposition to Prescott's pacifistic efforts was a growing faction of rebels that wanted no part of peace at all. They did not represent all Colonists or even all rebels as they were a small group of extremists. These zealots had become distrustful of all efforts by the Colonial army, politicians for both sides, pacifists and especially the English King.

This group of vigilantes was growing in numbers and had taken the situation into their own hands. They were convinced that there could be no compromise with the King and that as long as their land had anything at all to do with England, that there would be no true freedom. To them, this could not be accomplished by pacifism. Their solution to the conflict was to win it through war, anyway possible, then banish the English rule, military, and King from their land.

Mr. Prescott was always leery of this group, or any of his enemies, for that matter. He may have been a peaceful man, but he was realistic. Hayden always looked over his shoulder and carried a weapon. He knew that he must defend himself and his family. The Prescotts always stored loaded weapons hidden within the house, and the whole brood had been taught to use them in defense.

Prescott had trained his family to try, as far as possible, to come to a peaceful resolution-anything not to have to fire those dreaded weapons. But, he knew a day might come in which he or his family may have to defend themselves. Pacifism wasn't always a popular choice.

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"Hey Prescott!"

The rebel voice rang out again. "Prescott!"

Hayden neared the door and listened for the voice again. After a tense moment of silence, he acknowledged that he heard them.

"It's alright, gentleman, I'm coming out to talk with you."

"We don't want to talk!" The voice was harsh and coarse.

Mr. Prescott slowly inched through the front door and stood upon the front step.

"Gentleman," he addressed the intruders, "I don't want any trouble. I—"

"We warned you to stay out of this!" The shout was disembodied, coming from a force unseen hiding in the brush and woods close to the house.

Matthew stood just inside the doorway, ready to speak beside his father if need be. The rest of the family was huddled safely still on the floor.

The pacifist went on with his plea. "I want peace—"

The rebels cut him off short once again. They weren't interested in what he had to say.

"We don't want peace with the English; we want them out!"

Within the house, Melanie had raised her head, listening intently to what the voices outside had to say. She shot a look of concern to her mother who said nothing and continued holding Josie and Jonathon.

Hayden let out a sigh. He wanted to try and coax the instigators out of the brush to talk face to face.

Matthew sensed they were in for trouble. He looked slowly over at Melanie, each knowing what the other was thinking. He carefully reached over to the sideboard and quietly opened the drawer. Being a Seminarian, he would not use the gun himself, but wanted it ready for his father to pick up, if need be. At the same time, Melanie crawled a couple of steps toward the hutch, opened the bottom door, and pulled a pistol out and some extra load for it.

Marilyn, her mother, shot her a look of alarm, but Melanie brushed it off, shaking her head at her mother. She moved her eyes twice toward the kitchen, signaling her mother to take the children and creep back there.

"I want a peaceful resolution for both sides," urged Hayden, still on the step in front of the house. "I want no more bloodshed for either side."

There was some rustling in the bushes. The voice rang out in defiance again.

"That's a chance we're willing to take!"

"Men, don't jeopardize this," Mr. Prescott begged, "We're so close to peace. The King is willing to make some concessions and with a compromise on your—"

"NO!" cried the rebel man. "We've given enough. We're not giving anymore. We're taking what is ours!"

Hayden was on the verge of trembling. Only moments ago, he wasn't sure if this was only a scare tactic, or a real threat. Instinct told him they were in for serious trouble. Yet, he had to make another plea, not wanting violence on his own homestead.

"Men," he began, "Think of your relatives, friends, and neighbors that have been injured or killed. Don't contribute anymore to it!"

"We have thought of it," another voice cried out from a different direction, "and we refuse to live under tyranny any longer!"

There was a heavy silence as Prescott was now at a loss. He truly hated to have to resort to violence.

In the dining room, Melanie listened still to the voices as she watched her mother, younger brother and sister crawl to the kitchen. She then poised herself just underneath the window, staying hidden, yet ready to shoot if need be. The young woman would fight if she had to, but was still afraid. She hoped her father could do something yet to resolve this.

Melanie ran her hand through her long, curly blonde hair nervously. She tried to stay focused and brave, and concentrated on the exchange of words.

Outside, there was more stirring within the brush, coupled with the sound of a gun cocking. Matthew, Melanie, and their father all stiffened at that frightful noise. Melanie held her breath.

"This is your last warning," the voice of the unseen rebel leader shouted forcefully. "Are you going to stop your efforts for peace and let us fight it out?"

Mr. Prescott was now angry. He did not like these tactics especially when his family was involved and his home violated. Not wanting to let them have the upper hand of intimidation, he took a defiant and courageous stand.

"No! I'll never give up on peace and I won't stop my efforts. I am not afraid!"

"Very well, then," the voice screamed. "You've made your choice, so now we are going to have to stop you!"

With that, there was a gunshot. It hit Hayden Prescott in the left forearm, and knocked him backwards into the doorway. He quickly scurried in to seal the house for defense with his family.

"Father!," Melanie screamed instinctively after the quick action.

He slammed the door behind him and slid down the wall to his knees in pain. A quick thinking Matthew reached up to the narrow sideboard and pulled the runner off of it. He quickly wrapped the material around his father's wound. Prescott acknowledged to his two worried and oldest children that he was alright. He forced a smile.

Glass began to shatter and bullets ricocheted. The sound was deafening to the occupants of the house as it was pummeled with bullets from outside.

With his uninjured arm, Hayden took the pistol from the sideboard and shot from the window, aiming indiscriminately into the woods. From the dining room, Melanie was trying to listen for shots and voices and aim at them. Their defense of two guns was not faring well against an armed and unseen force of probably ten to fifteen men, or maybe more.

Melanie stopped firing for a moment to crawl into the kitchen. She wanted to see if there was any shooting coming from behind the house.

Once there, her mother was whispering instructions to Jonathon and Josie. "Run to the Maitland's farm, quickly! Stay off the road and down in the brush. Tell them we need help!"

"But, I want to stay here and help father," protested Jonathon. He was 13 and a young man, and thought himself old enough now to fight.

Melanie pulled a pistol out of one of the kitchen drawers. She had guessed correctly that her mother would forget to send the children off without a weapon. The older sister quickly checked it to make sure it wasn't cocked. She then tossed the weapon and a bag of shot to her brother, who caught them both.

"You can help us fight when you bring help back," Melanie instructed. The four then looked around outside the back door. It was quiet around there; all the shooting seemed to be located out front of the house. Melanie nodded her head to her mother. Marilyn then kissed the two youngest kids quickly and sent them off.

Melanie gave her a reassuring look that they would be fine. She then handed the pistol that she had been shooting, already reloaded, to her mother and said, "Help father shoot!"

Mrs. Prescott took the gun and crept into the front part of the house with Matthew and Hayden. Melanie reached behind the kitchen door and grabbed the musket that had been stowed there. She shoved the small bag of ammunition into her skirt pocket, then looked about the back of the house again. She saw her brother and sister, darting in and out of the brush cautiously, making their way toward help.

Unbeknownst to her, someone else was also watching the two youngest Prescott children escape. There was a young rebel, about aged 15, hiding in the woods to the side of the house. As he caught sight of them, he stood in the brush and raised his musket, aiming straight at Jonathon and Josie.

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On the other side of a low hill just to the North of the Prescott Estate, two legions of His Majesty's Green Dragoons Cavalry were riding in the adjacent valley. They had stopped only moments ago to look at a map, discern where they were and decide where to go. The group of nearly fifty men and horses had just started walking again when they heard shouts and gunshots.

The brigades were commanded by Lieutenant Colonels Banastre Tarleton and William Tavington. They had been on separate patrols and raids recently, and had been fortunate enough to rendezvous just outside of Devington. They were making their way back to Fort Carolina when they had entered the valley.

At the sound of the shots, all the commanders out front, including their seconds, raised their hands to the men behind them signaling a halt. Tavington's second in command, Major Alexander Bordon, gave hand signals to the men to stay quiet, be aware, and arm themselves. The legion did so with silent swiftness, sitting poised and ready to jump at the next command.

The two commanders rode cautiously to near the crest of the hill. They dismounted as a nearby private held the reins of their steeds. They signaled for Captain James Wilkins, a loyalist and colonist who had been with the dragoons, to join them. He dismounted as well and the three then crept on their stomachs to the top of the hill, taking extra care to keep low and out of sight.

The Dragoons, having just been called down to the Carolinas from Pennsylvania, were still not familiar with the area. They asked Wilkins, who had been raised and still lived in this part of South Carolina, if he was familiar with the farm below them.

"Yes!," he acknowledged. "That's Hayden Prescott's plantation."

"The pacifist?" Tarleton asked. He had heard much talk of him from some of the generals and had read of him in the newspapers.

"Yes," Wilkins confirmed. "I've gone there frequently over my lifetime. My family does business with them."

All three quickly studied the situation through their long scopes. Wilkins scanned the woods, the fields, and the perimeter of the estate with his glass. In the distance, he caught sight of two men, dressed like rebels, holding a group of an estimated 20 horses, obviously waiting on some cohorts.

"It's rebels!" Wilkins exclaimed in a low and alarmed voice. "They're attacking the place!"

Tarleton and Tavington looked quickly at each other and scooted quickly back down the hill out of sight, where they then sprang to their feet. Tavington signaled to his Major as he ran toward his horse. Major Bordon then signaled to the men to charge and attack.

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Down below on the plantation, as the dragoons surveyed the scene, the attack against the Prescott's continued. Melanie had crept out of the back of the house, carrying the musket. She silently stood at the edge of the house for cover, still hearing the sound of the bullets. Looking to her side, she saw a cart with some firewood in it. She quickly darted over to it and hid behind the thing.

Inside the house, Matthew Prescott had taken it upon himself to venture out onto the porch and into the yard. He hoped that the sight of him in his religious clothes and collar would stop them from their shooting. He prayed that they would then come out to reason with the family, before anyone else could be hurt.

Behind the house, Melanie had taken cover behind the small cart, rolling it along by the wheel spokes. She eyed the shed, which was the closest building, for any activity. Seeing none, when she got close to the outbuilding, she leapt from behind the cart and into the hut. She padded quietly over to one of the side windows to see if she could get better aim, or a different point of range on the situation. Her view of the front of the porch and main lawn were now partially obscured by the large house.

She heard her mother and father scream. She tried to see what had happened, but had to duck quickly as a stray bullet ricocheted off the hard ground and into the shed. Melanie heard more cries but couldn't discern what was happening.

Unknown to Melanie, her brother had just been shot in the head and had collapsed on the front lawn. Matthew's frantic parents screamed from the house. Hayden, without thinking and with only fear for the life of his child, sprang from the house and onto the lawn. He grabbed the body of his son, in hope that he was still alive, and tried to pull him to the safety of the house.

Mr. Prescott had only made it a few feet before he collapsed in pain himself. He had been shot, with the lead ball shattering his thigh. He dropped his son and tried to make it back to the house, but collapsed near the porch, unable to walk further. He began to pull himself on his belly toward the door.

Hayden then heard his wife scream. Melanie heard it as well, and decided then to try to make it back toward the house, not finding much better of a shooting angle from the shed.

Within the house, one of the rebels had entered from a side window and had cornered Marilyn Prescott. Melanie's poor mother, never a good shot and scared of guns anyway, had tried to shoot the intruder, but missed. He then charged at her quickly and soon had an iron grip on the woman. He pulled his knife blade across her throat and slit it open wide. Mrs. Prescott then collapsed instantly as her blood rushed out, quickly staining her dress and the carpet upon which she lie. The cut was so deep that it severed her vocal chords, leaving her unable to utter a cry as she lay helpless.

Outside, Mr. Prescott had not heard his wife cry or any more shooting from the house. Though injured and in extreme pain, he inched his way up on the porch, determined to get back inside to his wife. Just as he made it onto the porch and reached up to open the door from his belly, a shot went into the back of his neck and exited through the front of it, continuing on through the open door and into the house. Hayden gasped, then collapsed. He was struggling to breathe and keep his eyes open.

Over at the shed, Melanie was starting back toward her cart to use as cover, when a rebel jumped out from the side of the shed and aimed his gun at her. Another one followed him and quickly had her in a strangle hold. Melanie gasped aloud as she felt a searing pain in the middle of her left side, which brought immediate tears to her eyes. She had just been stabbed.

The rebel before her cocked his gun and aimed it at her head. She knew that she was going to die, yet was still in shock at how quickly and at the manner of her imminent death.

Suddenly, the deafening sound of thundering hooves and gunshots was heard. "Shit!", the rebel with the gun cried. He quickly dropped it to his side as he ran to the front of the house to see what was going on.

The other rebel still held the ailing Melanie as he waited for a word from his cohort. Melanie's side throbbed badly. She wanted to lay down and curl up into a ball.

"Damned Redcoat cavalry," the man with the gun yelled back to Melanie's abductor. They knew they were now under attack and vastly outnumbered. He then ran, leaving her alone with the knife-wielding rebel.

The man quickly began to stab Melanie haphazardly, carelessly trying to kill her. He was determined to get in as many stabs as possible before he had to take cover from the dragoons.

After another moment, he let Melanie drop to the ground and fled into the brush. Her body burned and ached from her wounds. The pain was blinding, making her see flashes before her eyes. The poor girl was laboring for breath as tears streamed down her face. She longed for her father and mother to come help her.

"Father. Mother," she cried weakly, and wept as she did. She was afraid and wanted them there to take care of her; to help her to protection.

Melanie tried to crawl toward the house but had no strength. Her body was now wracked and screaming of pain. She could feel the warmth of her blood on her skin as it saturated her clothes and flowed from her wounds.

After another moment of trying to drag herself upon her belly, she gave up and laid still upon the ground. She could hear the commotion of the riders, shouts, and shooting as a cacophony in her ears. It was mixed with the frenzied and fast beating of her own heart drumming in them, as well.

Another minute soon passed and she found herself fighting to keep her eyes open as a strange and merciful numbness crept over her body. Melanie sensed a blackness filtering into her field of vision. She wasn't sure if she was passing out, or dying. The girl surrendered herself to the muffled sounds and blurred, darkened vision, letting her eyes close.


	2. Chapter 2 Aftermath

Chapter 2 Aftermath 

The Dragoons had stormed their way onto the Prescott plantation, trampling all within their path. During the commotion, the rebels hadn't been able to get clear signals to each other. They had not anticipated that their small battle against Hayden Prescott would be interrupted by the enemy!

The rebels were outnumbered as the formidable red and green riders attacked. Some of the zealots tried their best to hide. A handful of them retreated back into the protection of the land. A few were killed, and two were caught and apprehended as they attempted to flee. The dragoons were always pleased to thwart the attempts of the rebels.

The fracas was over within a matter of minutes. Now, many of the men were riding to the middle of the lawn in front of the house, joining those who had already dismounted. They waited there for directions from the commanders, yet to join them.

Within a matter of moments, the officers rode into their midst. Colonel Tarleton was the last one in, joining Major Bordon and Colonel Tavington, already there. Banastre dismounted quickly, as the other two officers finished sheathing their swords and holstering their pistols.

Tarleton and Tavington looked at each other. William could tell by the familiar nod of Ban's head that he had relinquished the job of calling the orders to him.

"Split up," Tavington began. "I need lookouts at the perimeter of the property in case we have any unwanted visitors. Search the grounds and buildings."

Tavington removed his gloves as he continued barking orders. "Bring me the wounded. Line the dead up here." The colonel made a linear motion of his arm drawing an imaginary line on the grass as to where he wanted the casualties laid out.

"Take any prisoners to Major Bordon for interrogation, and give any important documents to Colonel Tarleton. Round up the horses and save them for us!" William stepped onto the walkway, surveying the area immediately around the house.

The men dismounted and went to their tasks. The other officers soon joined Tavington in studying aftermath of the ambush. Captain Wilkins was called and asked to join them. The men removed their helmets as they continued looking on at the carnage.

Before them on the sidewalk lay the dead body of Matthew Prescott. Blood stained the walkway crimson as it flowed from the side of his head. His eyes were shut as specks of the fluid were on his face and his religious smock.

"Dead!," Tarleton said, as he crouched down to look at the man. He shook his head at the sight of the dead priest. "I'm sure the man bold enough to kill the priest won't be making the trip to Heaven."

The group of officers moved closer to the front step, where the body of Hayden Prescott lay. Tavington knelt down and rolled the man over. He checked the man's neck—or rather what

was left of it—for a sign of life. The pacifist had been wounded by bullets in the thigh and the forearm, but the neck injury, leaving a gaping hole, is what killed the man.

The officers turned their attention to the massive house. Its bricks and wood now bore the fresh scars of bullets. There were many holes dotting the woodwork, and the chips in the bricks and mortar from the bullets were too many to count. Most the windows had been shattered by the bullets.

"Christ," Bordon swore. He looked up at the house in amazement. "It only took one bullet to kill him," he said, as he pointed to Mr. Prescott's corpse. "Why would they waste all their ammo on a building?"

"Yes," Tavington agreed. "They could have easily blown or fired the house."

"Scare tactics," Wilkins confidently pointed out.

The group then walked back toward the center of the lawn to wait for the men. They listened to the random shouts of their men calling out their findings.

"Servants are gone," one dragoon called from the quarters to the side.

"There's a dead woman here in the house!"

"There's one back here," another shouted from the barn.

Banastre Tarleton, William Tavington, and Alex Bordon watched James Wilkins as he looked around at the carnage with concern. The group also watched with concern as the men began bringing the victims around to be laid out on the front lawn. They looked on as one dragoon carried the body of a woman out of the house. Then they noticed another woman's body brought around from one of the side barns.

"Shame," said Wilkins forlornly. "He was a good man. They were a good family."

"Why would they do this to a pacifist?" Tavington asked.

The officers began to walk toward the spot where the soldiers had laid the rebel casualties out. Wilkins looked across the grass to that spot, then to his commander.

"Hayden Prescott had enemies, just as he had allies," Wilkins answered.

Bordon was silent as he walked along behind his commander. Alexander was the intelligence officer and chief interrogator for the dragoon units, aside from his duties as a commander and Colonel Tavington's adjutant. Even though he had established an information network both within the fort walls and outside in the Carolina countryside, he thought about how still unfamiliar he was with the area. He thought he had better spend more time with Wilkins to get familiar with the locale. For the moment, Alex kept quiet and listened intently to the conversation, especially to Captain Wilkins, trying to absorb as much information as possible.

The group had now come upon the area in which five dead rebels were laid out. They studied the corpses before them. Colonel Tavington resumed with his directions. "We need a burial detail," he instructed. The officer paused for a moment, scanning the plantation for something.

"Wilkins."

The loyalist captain hurried to his commander's side. "Yes sir?"

"Is that the family cemetery over there?" asked William.

"I believe so."

"Well then," the colonel continued, "place the family to rest over there, but bury the rebels elsewhere. I don't want this scum anywhere near this decent family."

Tavington turned to his aide-de-camp, still near the commander. "If it were up to me, I'd order those bloody rebels left for the vultures."

Bordon said nothing, his disdain for rebels almost as rampant as his commander's.

Wilkins then spoke up. "Sir, I'd like to head up the burial of the Prescott family, since I knew them."

"Granted," acknowledged the dragoon leader. "I trust you'll know where to place them."

Wilkins step aside to where the burial detail was, pointing over toward the family plot. He then gave the names and other details he wanted listed on the burial marker for now, knowing it would be replaced with a more elaborate stone later.

After a moment passed, Tavington reached down and pulled a gun out of the holster of an old, dead Colonial. He held the pistol up and looked at it.

"English," he said. "This group has raided one of our supply trains. I wonder what other English valuables they have?"

The men hoped they had not stolen any maps or documents, but had no way of knowing for sure. Tavington pocketed the gun.

"Private," barked William, "Search the bodies for papers. Give their diaries to the Major. See that all the weapons and ammo are collected." He then turned to the officers and sneered under his breath, "It's probably all ours, anyway!"

Colonel Tarleton looked down at the dead rebels lying before him and shook his head. "You'd think these men would have wanted to work with a man of his power."

Wilkins, through with burial detail for the moment, crouched down to get a better look at the dead men. He rummaged through the pockets of the man, but didn't find anything of importance. He stood back up and looked at Tarleton. "Not these men."

"You know them?" Tavington asked.

"I don't know them, but I know _what_ they are," Wilkins answered.

"Well, Captain?" Tavington queried with impatience.

"They are extremists," he began. "They have no interest in working with a pacifist or anyone else for that matter. They want the war, and they want to win it. They won't compromise anything and will not stop until the English are gone."

Wilkins fished through the coat pocket of the rebel he knelt beside. Not finding anything of importance, he continued on. "From the looks of things here, and just from the rumors I know of in this area, they must have decided to put a stop to Prescott's negotiations for peace."

"They wanted him out of the way, obviously," Tavington commented with a sigh.

"Pity," Banastre replied. "I knew our side had relied heavily on him. Just the other day one of the generals said we were making real headway, and credited much of it to Mr. Prescott."

About that time, two dragoons came up to the group of officers, dragging along two of the rebel zealots that had been captured. "Prisoners sir."

Tavington nodded his head toward his Major. "Bordon."

Alex stepped before the bound men. "Secure them. I'll speak with them back at the fort. Make sure they don't get away." Bordon sighed. He'd have to talk with Wilkins a little more to find out more about this group of rebel extremists and to learn more of Prescott.

Wilkins, Bordon, Tavington, and Tarleton turned to walk back toward the house. They could see six bodies laid out on the grass ahead of them. The three English officers listened and watched Wilkins again as they walked.

The loyalist officer Wilkins was filled with dread as he looked at the bodies that lie just ahead of them. He shook his head and heaved a fear laden breath as they neared the corpses.

The group of officers reached the bodies of the Prescott family. They had been neatly and respectfully laid out on the lawn in front of the home they loved; a home they would inhabit no more.

Captain Wilkins walked past each person and identified them to the English officers. He stood quietly over Hayden Prescott with a look of disappointment on his face.

"This is Hayden Prescott," he sighed. "He did so much to try and stop this. I am sure he could have done more. Just a few months ago, there was a meeting in Charles Towne, regarding the war. Many of us from this area, including the Prescotts, were there. Mr. Prescott spoke so well to an angry crowd that was Hell bent on fighting here in the South. In fact, I thought he nearly had the crowd turned to pacifism to solve all this. That was until that damned Harry Burwell spoke up."

"Burwell?" Tavington asked.

"Colonel Burwell, Of the Continental army, Sir," informed Bordon. "Under General Gates."

Bordon's knack for area intelligence never ceased to impress William. He felt lucky to have such an astute—and unrelenting—officer as his Aide de Camp.

Wilkins looked up, as if remembering the moment. He snickered sarcastically as he continued. "He claimed not to be an orator, but he swayed the crowd back to wanting to join in the fight."

The loyalist captain shook his head, then moved on. He looked down at Matthew Prescott, his religious uniform and collar now stained with dirt and blood.

"This is the oldest son, Matthew. He was in seminary school. He must have been home from seminary on a break."

Tavington, Bordon, and Tarleton followed along, pausing to look over each of the dead. They listened to Wilkins as he spoke.

"That is Mrs. Prescott," he said. He knelt down beside her, looking at the horrible gash in her neck. "Where did they find her?"

"Um....they carried her out of the house," Bordon answered. He recalled seeing one of the men bringing her body out through the front door only moments ago.

Wilkins stayed kneeling as he pointed out the next casualty. "This is Miss Melanie Prescott,the oldest daughter; in fact, the oldest child. She would have been a fine catch."

All three of the English officers raised their eyebrows and shot looks at Captain Wilkins.

"All the men around here had their eyes on her. She _had_ been engaged, but her fiancé died in battle, I believe."

The three senior officers looked at the young woman. All were thinking to themselves how beautiful she was. They were sorry that they would not have the chance to get to know her.

Wilkins rose and moved on to the last of the dead family. "Oh, Damn!" he exclaimed in disgust.

"Children," he continued. Wilkins still was having trouble seeing the dead children who were victims of this war. It especially tore at him to see the youngest members of this good family having to share the same fate as the older ones. It bothered him, as he knew they were innocent casualties of the conflict.

The three English officers said nothing, having become somewhat numb to the sight of dead children. They knew this was a fact of war. It did not trouble these men to kill a young rebel, because to them, every child who fought actively could grow up to be a soldier or rebel leader. They also realized that they or one of their men could be killed by a young rebel, just as well as by an old one. It did make a difference to them to see non fighting, innocent children or women killed during the conflict, but they knew this to be inevitable.

"That's Jonathon Prescott," Wilkins continued. "I think he is 12 or 13. And that is Josie, the youngest."

"So this is the whole family?" Bordon asked.

"Yes," Captain Wilkins answered blandly.

"Sad loss," Tarleton said.

"Yes," Tavington agreed, glancing again at each member of the family. He then looked about at his men. He took a couple of steps away from the corpses and began to shout orders.

"Seize the entire plantation for His Majesty's army," he ordered, "God knows this family doesn't need it anymore."

With that, the officers began dividing the men into groups for more duties. They decided that Tarleton and some of his men would stay at the plantation to secure it until Cornwallis could decide what part of his army would live there.

"Check the barns," Tavington went on. "Leave the livestock here for Tarleton's unit. The carriages, implements, and wagons can stay behind, as well. They'll slow us down on the way back to the fort."

Wilkins, who had been listening quietly to Tavington's orders, thought he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head and looked back over his shoulder. He thought it was nothing, yet continued to gaze at the body of Melanie Prescott. It was still hard for him to believe this young beauty was dead.

As he stared at her still, he thought he saw her fingers move. Wilkins blinked hard, thinking he was seeing things. He turned his attention back to Colonel Tavington, lost now from what he had been ordering of the men.

Another moment passed, then Captain Wilkins turned again and looked at Miss Prescott. He couldn't help but look at her hand again and indeed, he saw her fingers twitching. The she moved her head slightly. In disbelief that he was seeing all this, Jim stepped over to where she lay and knelt down beside her. She groaned almost inaudibly and moved her head again.

"Colonel," shouted Wilkins, "She's alive!"

Tavington stopped in the midst of his orders, whirled about and looked startled at Wilkins.

"Miss Prescott is still alive," Wilkins affirmed.

Tavington tore through the group and back over to where the family's bodies lay. "Alive? Are you quite sure?"

"Private!," Tavington called to the one man in Tarleton's legion that he knew to be a medic.

"Sir," the medic answered.

"Some of them may be alive," he remarked.

The medical officer surveyed the bodies questioningly from where he stood, incredulous that anyone would have survived what looked like a brutal attack.

"Check them again for life!" He ordered in an irritated tone. "Use a mirror". He did not want to be responsible for burying any innocent pacifists alive. William reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small mirror, which he tossed to Wilkins. Bordon, likewise, retrieved a small mirror from his pocket as well, and began checking the other bodies for breathing along with the medic.

Wilkins held the small mirror under the nose, then the mouth of Melanie Prescott. A smile crossed his face as the glass began to fog up.

"She's breathing! She's alive!"

Bordon, and likewise the medical officer, were having no luck with any of the other Prescotts. The aide-de-camp shoved the mirror back into his pocket after he had checked the other five and stepped back over to his commanders.

"No breath on the others. Just the young lady."

"Amazing," Tavington exclaimed.

"Yeah," Tarleton agreed. "I can't believe someone lived through this massacre. Her wounds look bad. Anyone count how many times she has been stabbed?"

Wilkins was too busy with Miss Prescott to hear the conversation of the officers. He gripped her hand and brushed the hair back from her face. The medic quickly came to aid Wilkins, kneeling down next to her.

The medic listened to her heart and breathing as Wilkins dabbed her face with water, washing away the blood and dirt.

The private felt her forehead, which was burning up. "She's bad. I don't think she has much longer to live."

Wilkins did not listen to the medic. He held Melanie's hand again and touched her face with his fingertips.

"Miss Prescott," he said quietly, trying to rouse her. "Melanie?"

The other officers gathered around her and Wilkins, wanting a closer look. The captain continued to try to stimulate the young woman to a coherent state.

"Melanie, can you hear me?" he asked, desperately trying to elicit some sort of response from her.

"Melanie, it's Jim Wilkins," he continued. "Melanie, it's alright. You're safe now. If you can hear me, open your eyes or squeeze my hand, please. Miss Melanie?"

The captain and the others waited tensely for a moment for a response. Wilkins put his ear closer to her face, hoping to hear something from her. She groaned this time, a little louder.

"Miss Melanie," he cooed to her again.

Her eyelids fluttered as she moaned again. Then, she opened her eyes a slit and moved her head slightly. She whimpered airily again as her eyelids fluttered. She then closed her eyes again.

"We have to get her back to the Fort," Wilkins implored.

"She'd never make the trip," Bordon argued. "She's nearly dead."

Wilkins let go of her gently and jumped to his feet. "Well, if we're commandeering the house, then she can stay here and recover."

"Sir, I don't know," the medical officer argued. "I haven't got the means to take care of someone with wounds as serious as hers."

"We can't let her die," Wilkins opposed.

"Captain, she is near death as it is," Tarleton said.

Wilkins hated it so that this good family, that he had known somewhat, had been slaughtered. He wanted to try to preserve some part of it. He knew them to be good and influential people, just in name alone. It was indeed a well known and powerful name.

"Colonel Tavington," he pleaded with his commander, "she would be a good person to have at our fort, if she survives. Why, the name of her family alone precedes her. It would be strategic, not to mention powerful in our favor, if the Colonials knew that the only surviving member of this good family was with us. Her father had many influential friends and allies in the so called Continental government. They would be worried or concerned over her. Just think what it could do."

The three commanding officers were silent for a moment as Captain Wilkins' words caught their attention.

"It could open the channels of communication with them," Bordon spoke up, his words now reflecting the intelligence part of his duties.

Tarleton smiled slyly at Bordon, knowing the major would love to scour her brain for information to help with his interrogations—if she lived. He also caught the other meaning of his words.

"You mean that it would also open up the bargaining tables," Banastre laughed.

Bordon raised his eyebrows and said nothing. He would let the comment sit as it was.

"I suppose it would be good for the English to have her around," Tavington relented. Then he added, "if she survives."

The officers were quiet for yet another moment, letting Tavington make the final decision.

"Alright," said Tavington. "Take her back to the fort. She'll make a valuable prisoner and maybe a good bargaining chip."

"Prisoner," queried Captain Wilkins, his face registering surprise. He wondered why they would hold a pacifist, neutral to both sides, as captive.

"Yes, Captain," Tavington replied smartly. "If she does live, you don't think we are going to let her go, do you?"

Colonel Tavington then turned to his men. "Those of you that are staying, report to Colonel Tarleton for your assignments," he ordered. "The rest of you, get ready to leave for the fort."

Bordon looked over at one of the Privates, one that he had known to have searched the house earlier. "Fetch a warm blanket for Miss Prescott from the house."

The adjutant then knelt down next to Melanie, who was unconscious again. He put one hand on her wrist gently then touched her cheek with the fingertips of the other. Alex studied her face a moment and tried not to let on how beautiful he thought she was. The officer had no doubt that the other men felt the same way.

Major Bordon then felt her forehead, which was very warm. He wiped away a smudge on her cheek. Then, he held her chin softly with his thumb and index finger and moved her head delicately from side to side, examining her. The girl's skin color was completely washed out, and all the blush had drained from her lips.

Breathing a heavy sigh, Alexander Bordon looked at the medic across from him, still poised over Melanie's body. He commented, "Color's bad. Bind her wounds as best as you can. The surgeons can do the rest back at the fort."

The medical officer thought this was a lost cause, but did not voice this. He was not about to waste what little bandages he had left on a Colonial woman—dying or not. So, he lifted her skirt and began to shred the young lady's petticoats.

After a moment of this, he suddenly felt several sets of eyes burning holes into the back of him. Indeed, he looked up and saw the officers standing there with shock on their faces.

"Sir, I've no bandages left," he lied. "I'll have to use these."

Tarleton, Tavington, and Bordon nodded their heads in understanding. They continued to mill about and pace, leaving the medic to his job.

After a few moments, the rebel and the Prescott horses had been rounded up and were readied to leave. Shortly thereafter, Private Higgins came running from the house with blanket in hand for Miss Melanie.

The men took to their horses, save for Major Bordon and the medic. Tavington had made the decision that the ailing Miss Prescott would ride back with Captain Wilkins on his horse. The colonel doubted that she would survive the ride to the fort, so it made no difference if she rode back laying in a wagon, or held in the arms of a dragoon. Either way, she would be jostled about, which wouldn't be any better for her wounds. It was a chance undertaking.

Tavington bid farewell the Tarleton. "As soon as we get back and get an answer from the generals, I'll try to get a dispatch rider to you with their answers so that the area may be prepped."

"Enjoy this beautiful home for the tonight," Tavington remarked to Ban as he mounted his horse.

"It _is _a lavish home," Tarleton agreed with a smile, glad to be spending the night in a house instead of a tent, "but it needs some camp followers. Give my regards to the ladies back at the fort; tell them I miss them already."

"Well, Bordon and I will make sure and ease their pain this evening with you gone," Tavington quipped making the men around them laugh.

"No. They will all be too heartbroken over my absence tonight," Tarleton bantered back, "that I'm sure they will all take to their beds in tears."

Major Bordon looked up at Tavington from where he stood. Both men rolled their eyes at Ban's comment.

The medic finished binding the young woman's wounds, then he and Major Bordon wrapped her tightly into the blanket. The second in command then lifted the bundled girl up and into the arms of Captain Wilkins for the ride back to the fort.

With that, Tavington and Bordon bid goodbye to Tarleton and his bunch of men, leaving them to ready the place for the arrival of more English. Wilkins held Melanie's limp body tightly as he looked back at the Prescott's comfortable plantation house. He watched the remaining dragoons picking up the bodies of the dead family, moving them to the side of the house for burial in the tiny family cemetery. Then he shuddered and turned back straight in his saddle, unable to look anymore. He detested the fact that a good family had been slaughtered, and felt even worse when he looked at the only remaining survivor of that massacre, in his arms, barely alive.

As they started to walk along, Jim Wilkins whispered words of encouragement to his neighbor and friend. "Melanie, I hope you can hear me. We are taking you back to Fort Carolina. The surgeons there can help you. But you have to hold on through the ride. You MUST hold on."


	3. Chapter 3 In The Care Of The British

Chapter 3 In The Care of The British

After a few hours, the Dragoons rode through the gates of Fort Carolina with horses and rebel prisoners in tow, and one massacre survivor. Once inside, Captain James Wilkins rode as near as he could to the hospital tent looking for someone nearby to hand Miss Prescott's limp body to. He observed that Major Bordon was on the ground having dismounted already and signaled for him. Wilkins then handed Melanie's near lifeless body down to his superior.

Bordon took the young lady securely in his arms and carried her quickly into the hospital tent. Once inside, he laid the girl down on the first open table he saw, then looked for a doctor. Tavington soon caught up to him and, together, they found a surgeon and explained what had happened to her as he looked the girl over assessing her injuries.

Soon, the doctor excused himself, having soldiers with worse injuries to tend to. So, Bordon and Tavington, deeming her in good hands now, left her side and made their way out of the tent.

At the door, the men realized they had forgotten to ask the doctor to refrain from telling Miss Prescott anything about her family's unfortunate demise should she regain coherency. Both commanders needed to apprise Lord Cornwallis of the situation first and leave the decision of disclosure about the massacre to him.

Colonel Tavington and Major Bordon turned on their heels and headed quickly back to the table where they'd left Miss Prescott. They had hoped to find the doctor back with her. Instead, they found several less hurt soldiers congregating near her, ogling her with wolves' eyes. They were as vultures, circling the table getting ready to swoop down on the helpless girl.

The two officers were alarmed at what they saw and bounded to her side to protect the valuable captive. Tavington and Bordon looked at each other with wide eyes, each thinking that this young woman could not be adequately protected from the woman hungry soldiers in the tents.

"The house!" exclaimed Tavington, knowing it would be safer for her in there than in the surgery tent.

"Yes!" Bordon agreed with a nod of his head.

With that, ColonelTavington scooped Miss Prescott up into his arms. The two officers then whisked her away into the main house of the fort.

Once inside, Tavington carried her up the stairs to the officer's quarters, with Bordon following close behind. He took her straight to his room and laid her down in his bed.

"She will be safe in here," remarked William, as he adjusted the bed sheets around her.

"Yes," Bordon agreed. "I'll notify the doctor that she has been moved."

Bordon marched to the door , but turned on his heel when Tavington called his name.

"Bordon, it seems I will have to bunk with you for awhile," Tavington said, rather apologetically.

"Yes, sir," Alex conceded. He walked through the door and made a sour face at the thought of losing the well earned privacy of his bachelor's chambers. Privacy was the one commodity that was in high demand with a very low supply.

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Shortly after Melanie had been placed in Tavington's room, a surgeon was summoned. Fortunately, there was now a lull in the activity in the hospital tent, so a doctor came with a medic right away.

While the medical officers were on their way up, Tavington and Bordon briefed Generals Cornwallis and O'Hara of the situation. The four officers were in the room pondering the circumstances when the doctor and his assistant arrived. Cornwallis quickly left orders with the surgeon, then exited with O'Hara.

A heavy table had been brought in and Miss Prescott's near lifeless form was laid upon it. The officers were sent from the room while the surgeon and medic tried to work a miracle.

Her clothes were removed and the surgeon looked at the damage. He shook his head and said to his assistant, "God, this woman's in bad shape."

"Not worth saving?," asked the medic.

"No, but we have orders from the Lord General to make every effort."

"She must be someone very important to him," the assistant commented.

"Probably his bastard child," quipped the doctor in a lowered voice.

"Or his mistress," the medic jokingly added.

Then, the surgeon suddenly stiffened and looked around the room. His demeanor went back to serious.

"We should remember ourselves," he reminded, then he lowered his voice to a whisper and added, "for the walls have ears."

The two knew that everything that was said in or around the fort eventually made its way back to Major Bordon. As intelligence officer, Bordon had a wellspring of resources at his fingertips. In just the short time he'd been in the Carolinas he established a network that he thought was still not adequate satisfied with it, but the size was impressive nonetheless.

Bordon was a master at getting the answers and had various methods of pulling information from generals and prisoners alike. Nothing was out of bounds. Alex would manipulate, threaten, coax sweetly, offer bargains and bribes, and had stooped as low as seducing the female prisoners. It was even rumored that he would torture ruthlessly if need be, but that was only a rumor.

Everyone knew that the Major had 'stool pigeons' within the fort that sang like trained canaries for him. Some of these snitches were known, while others remained anonymous, their identities lingering in the shadows. Dwellers at the fort often marveled at how the most secret things ended up finding their way to Bordon.

Knowing all this, the medic and doctor soon hushed up, lest they be heard, and began to work on their patient. They cleaned and stitched up the various stab and slice wounds, which were numerous. Both men could tell from the many, haphazard wounds, that her attacker had stabbed crazily in haste and at random, as if he was in a hurry to do the deed.

There were about ten wounds in all. The worst was the deep stab wound to her left side, which had caused damage, but had luckily missed the vital organs. The doctor was also worried about the stab to her right side. Fortunately, it did not penetrate as deep as the other, but the knife had been shoved in with just enough force to crack one of the girl's ribs, which made her labor for breath. There were some superficial stab and slice wounds, as well as some medium deep wounds about her shoulders, thigh, abdomen, and forearm.

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As the evening wore on, Cornwallis met with his staff of officers over dinner, again discussing the subject of Miss Prescott. He informed the men that he had assigned a woman, who was an indentured servant and served in the house, to attend to their new guest. This woman had experience with the wounded as she had helped out in the hospital tents.

It was nearly 10:00pm when the medical officers were finished repairing Melanie. Cornwallis was notified, as was General O'Hara, Major Bordon, and Colonel Tavington.

The officers gathered at her bedside where she was unconscious still, and talked with the surgeon.

"She is very weak and has lost a lot of blood," the doctor stated. "She also has a fever. We need to watch her closely for infection."

"Is she going to live?" asked Cornwallis anxiously.

The surgeon sighed as he packed away the last of his instruments. "To be honest, I can not say, Sir,", he answered.

"Alright. Thank you for your efforts," replied General Cornwallis. He then dismissed the medical officers.

The four officers stood quietly for a moment, looking at the silent girl. Cornwallis broke the silence. "Appalling that the rebels killed the most the whole family," he remarked.

The men nodded in agreement. Cornwallis continued. "Well, let's hope that she survives so that a part of that gracious and honorable family will live on."

Then, the Lord General turned dark and mused aloud, as if no one else was present. "If she survives, I should like to flaunt her before the faces of those rebel bastards just to spite them. I'd like to show them that they failed at the job they set out to do."

The three other officers were taken aback at their commander's candor. He never let down like this, priding himself on professionalism and propriety. Cornwallis was always the utmost proper general, adhering to decorum, and displaying the traits of a prim aristocrat.

General Cornwallis went on, still as if talking to himself, focusing down on the forlorn figure of the pacifist's daughter. "I'd like them to see that they did not wipe out totally a decent family, and, if caught, they will pay dearly for what they have done!"

On his way out, Lord Cornwallis had a cot moved into Colonel Tavington's room to accommodate Miss Prescott's nurse. Bridgett Kilpatrick, a young Irish woman and indentured servant, was given the task of attending to Melanie. She moved into the room that evening and began taking care of the ailing girl.

Also in Tavington's room, along with the new tenants and cot, his massive desk was left there as there was no room for it in Bordon's quarters. The Major's lodging was even smaller in size than his commander's. Alex's room was now crowded with his small desk and bed, and Tavington's "officer's" cot, which was a bit larger and roomier than the standard "soldier's" cot. This left just enough room to walk and change clothes. He joked that the room had become so small due to crowding within it that one had to step outside the door to change his mind!

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The next few weeks of Melanie Prescott's young life were precarious. She ran fevers that broke, only to spike again later. Infection was always a threat with the medics barely staying one step ahead of it. She did not move much except to thrash about occasionally on the bed. The poor girl was in constant pain save for the merciful respites of sound sleep.

Melanie's mental and emotional state were nonexistent. She was unconscious most of the time, and when she was conscious, she was incoherent. She did not respond to anyone and was unable to make any kind of contact or communication. The doctor had predicted that she would not be coherent for awhile, and may not even remember anything of her ordeal or convalescence. She was sometimes delirious, calling out or muttering incomprehensibly at the height of her fevers. The young lady cried pitifully a good deal of the time.

On occasion, Miss Prescott was given Laudanum for her pain—when there was some to spare. Most often, she went without the precious substance as it was saved for the soldiers first, and seemingly was always in demand and short supply. As a last resort, Bridgett had taken to lacing some tea, or even a wet rag, with Valerian or alcohol to try and ease her suffering, but usually, she could not drink enough of this to help, or couldn't keep down what she ingested. More often than not, the kindness and compassion of Bridgett and the officers giving her comfort was the only relief she had from the pain.

Bridgett attended Melanie night and day. The young woman was kept alive on broth, water, and tea force fed to her, usually with someone holding her up while the servant delicately spoon fed her. The patient remained weak and lost some weight.

Sometimes the officers would take turns sitting with the young lady when they had a free moment. Or they'd do their paperwork at Tavington's large desk in the room. These small courtesies were extended to give Bridgett a break, and also for the officers to monitor the progress and welfare of this most valued new guest to the fort that Lord Cornwallis had charged them with looking after and protecting.

On one of the night, Banastre Tarleton took his mail into William's room to read it at Melanie's bedside, so that Bridgett could have a quiet meal without having to attend to a patient in the middle of it. He intermittently read and looked at Miss Prescott.

She looked just as pitiful as always and her pallor was as white as a ghost. She began, muttering and crying. "Jonathon...Josie...be…careful!...oh,…..bring…help!..Children, please!...Jon...Jo...watch...hide...care...God...no." Her voice trailed off again.

Tarleton, feeling sympathy for the poor girl, put his letters down and took her hand. He tried to comfort her.

"There, there. Calm down. Stay quiet and still and it will help you relax. That will help with your pain." He stroked a lock of her blonde hair back from her face.

About this time, Bridgett returned on the arm of Captain Wilkins. She had asked him to assist her while feeding Miss Prescott. She would need him to help hold her up. She thanked Colonel Tarleton for his time and released him.

Tarleton gathered his letters and relinquished his spot next to the bed to allow the couple room to feed the patient. As he was walking from the room, he stopped and turned back. Wilkins already had Melanie propped up as Bridgett was stirring the broth.

"Wilkins, were Josie and Jonathon of the Prescott family?" he asked.

"Why," queried Wilkins.

"Oh, because she was calling for them a moment ago," stated Ban.

" Yes. They are—were her younger siblings," Wilkins replied. "They were 13 and 10."

"Oh," Banastre answered quietly as he shook his head. He thought that she must have cared deeply for them. She would have to deal with the shock of their deaths, if she recovered. He felt very sorry for her.

On another occasion, when Tarleton was out on patrol, William Tavington stopped to look in on Miss Prescott. He found Bordon, who's paperwork had been interrupted, away from the desk and sitting at her bedside. He held one of the girl's hands and talked soothingly to her as she thrashed about. He wiped her brow with a cool rag as she cried in pain.

Earlier, a desperate Alexander had wanted to take the girl into his arms, carry her and walk the floor with her as if trying to soothe a crying child. He didn't dare lift her in fear of aggravating her fragile wounds any further.

Will, knowing that Laudanum had not been spared to her, lost his temper. "If she is so valuable, then why don't they give her painkiller?"

"Soldier's come first," Bordon said in a tired voice. He was still trying to comfort the ailing girl.

"This is ridiculous!," exclaimed the Colonel. "They must have the means to make the poor girl more comfortable. I'm going to try and find something for her." With that, he turned and headed out of the room.

"Good luck," retorted Alex. The Major went on attending to Miss Prescott. "It's alright, Miss. We're trying to get you something for the pain." Melanie went on, whimpering and writhing in agony.

Alex sighed as he tried to hold her still, fearing she would weaken herself even further. He gazed upon her silently and wondered what she was like before this tragic event. He thought she was a pretty girl—even amidst the ugliness of suffering and pain.

In another moment, Tavington entered the room dragging a medic forcibly by the arm. The poor soldier was harried and confused. He was holding a vial of Laudanum and looking back and forth from the officers to the patient on the bed.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Tavington asked in an irritated voice. "There's your patient. Give her the drug!" He then pointed to Melanie on the bed.

The young medic recoiled immediately. "No sir! This is for the soldiers."

"You dare disobey me?" Tavington growled. "That was an order!"

"But sir," the soldier began to protest, "My superior's orders were that the Crown's soldiers are the utmost priority. All others are of last thought."

William lost his temper with the medic, caring only to fulfill_ his_ orders from Lord Cornwallis of seeing to and protecting this valued prisoner. He drew his pistol from his belt, aimed it squarely at the medical officer and pulled back the hammer. The silence in the room from both a stunned Bordon and alarmed medic made the gun cock sound like a tiny yet formidable explosion.

" Well now your orders have changed. Private, give it to her now," William implored. "I will take responsibility for it!"

The frightened young man went quickly to the bed and administered the painkiller to Miss Prescott. Within a moment, the girl became quiet and seemed to drift into a comfortable sleep. Tavington and Bordon exchanged looks, wondering how long they would have to throw their authority around to get things for this patient.

"Bravo colonel," Bordon cheered after the scared medic exited.

"We'll see which orders are the most important around here," Tavington sneered, disgusted that he had to resort to intimidation of one of his own countrymen to get the desired results.

It was only a short while before the medical staff had warned each other about being "strong armed" into giving precious Laudanum to Miss Prescott. They were now prepared to stand firm against the dragoons on the issue. So soon the officers lost their power to order the medics to give Melanie the drug. Bordon tried to remedy this himself, as Miss Prescott was always moaning and sobbing with pain.

The major visited a nearby Cherokee tribe that helped him out from time to time with information. Telling the tribal medicine man of Melanie's symptoms and situation, he was sent on his way with a few different bags of herbs. They were to fight infection, ease the pain, give her a restful sleep, and to help her regain strength.

Alexander gave instructions about the drugs to Bridgett. She mixed the herbs into Melanie's broth and tea, creating a healing Indian remedy for the young woman. Along with that, the medicine man had agreed with the former treatment of Valerian and alcohol and advised the woman to supplement his remedy with it.

After only a few days of the herbal mixture, Bridgett and all the officers, and even the doctor, noticed small improvements in Miss Prescott's once grave condition. However, the pain would sometimes breakthrough. The herbal potion was just enough to take the edge off of it, not totally quelling it the way a good dose of Laudanum would do.

During one of these particularly painful episodes, Colonel Tavington just happened to be sitting with Melanie. She was writhing and groaning with tears streaming down her face. Tavington dabbed a cool cloth on her neck, upper chest, arms, cheeks and forehead—any exposed skin—to try to cool her down and break the fever. Will tried to get her to lay still, her thrashing just making the pain worse. He caressed her cheeks gently with his fingers and laid his hand upon her forehead in attempts to calm her.

The young woman began to cry pitifully and called out in delirium. "Father...Mother...Mama...Father?"

Tavington hated to see this pretty young girl in pain. He took her hand and spoke to her.

"Shhhhh. It's alright," he said quietly.

"Father?" she called again.

William sighed helplessly, then answered her. "Yes darling, it's Father." He lied, wanting badly to comfort the poor girl.

"Father?"

"Yes, it's alright. I'm here with you," he replied in concern. He sat forward and studied her face as worry crossed his own. He was afraid she was close to death now.

"Father, please stay here," she begged. Her eyes were closed and it was plain that she still was not coherent and had no idea where she was. "Don't leave me."

"I won't," he assured. Will then put his hand on her head and hair and stroked her forehead sweetly with his thumb.

"Where's Mother," asked Melanie. "I want Mother."

"Um...she went into the village to purchase medicine for you," he lied. William was now beside himself, not knowing if he should call for the surgeon. What good could he do if she was indeed dying.

"I want my mother," she wept sorrowfully. Her cheeks were wet with her tears.

"I know, darling," he soothed. "She's bringing something for you. She'll be back soon."

"Oh,Father, it hurts!" The young woman sobbed harder now. Tavington caressed her hand and stroked her cheek, unable to stay ahead of the tears Melanie cried now.

"Yes, dear, but you must be brave," he urged her softly.

She moaned painfully as her head rolled from side to side on her pillow. Melanie raised her arms to her head as if shielding herself from something. William gently pulled them back down as she weakly fought him. Then, he stroked and smoothed her hair back.

"Shhhh. You will have medicine to help with the pain," he encouraged her. "Until then, have courage."

"Help me Father, please," she pleaded in delirium. "It hurts so much."

A very worried William leaned over her. He pulled the covers up around her as she began to shiver with a chill.

He whispered to her. "Yes, I know it does. Try to go to sleep then it won't hurt as much. I'll stay here with you."

Will put his hand on her head again and stroked her hair back and caressed her cheeks, trying to comfort her and ease the pain. He hoped this soothing action would lull her to sleep.

After a few moments, she sniffled, then drifted into a slumber. William stayed quietly by her side. He gazed at her. He thought she was beautiful, even with her pallor as white as a ghost and her blonde hair matted in sweat to her head.

The colonel wondered about her: what she was like, her loves, her dislikes, her feelings. He had become infatuated with this girl who barely survived a brutal massacre.

After more time passed, William wrung out the rag and folded it into a compress to put on her hot skin. But, before he could place the cloth on her forehead, he couldn't resist doing something.

William Tavington pressed his lips softly to her forehead, then her cheek, and kissed her gently and innocently. He watched as her breathing dropped into a steady rhythm. She was out of pain again, at least for now.


	4. Chapter 4 Recovery

Chapter 4 Recovery

For the next several weeks, Melanie Prescott lingered in and out of consciousness. She laid weakly in Tavington's bed in his quarters, feverish, incoherent, delirious, in pain, and near death. She was unaware of what went on around her both in her new abode and outside of it.

During this time of convalescence, the world went on around her. Fort Carolina ran as usual, and the war kept on relentlessly. The British had taken over and moved into Melanie's family home and plantation, turning it into a hospital and recovery camp. The commanders in charge there had been warned sternly by General Cornwallis and His Majesty King George to have respect and honor for the home and objects within and out, land, outbuildings, wagons, and crops out of high regard for the late Mr. Prescott. There was to be no looting or vandalism of any kind. They had also kept the crops and livestock in with the slaves and indentured servants there to help supply the army. Last of all, Lord Cornwallis remembering how kindly Hayden Prescott had treated his servants and slaves, the Lord General ordered that all of them be treated with the same kindness and that he had better not hear of any harshness or abuse.

News and rumors spread of the deaths of Hayden Prescott and his family. Many on both sides of the war were saddened by his loss. It was widely reported in error that the whole family was dead. Not many knew that there had actually been a survivor.

All this time, while the war and life raged on, Bridgett Kilpatrick, Melanie's Irish caretaker stayed by her side. And, just after the beginning of January 1779, Bridgett and the officers of the fort received a pleasant surprise.

In the darkness that was her life as of late, Melanie could hear odd noises. Occasionally, she'd hear a voice, but could not bring herself out of her pained paralysis to discern what was said. The young lady tried hard to open her eyes. She felt she had slept long enough and now wanted to wake up, but found it difficult to do so.

Bridgett had spent so much time with the ailing girl that she had learned to interpret the different sounds such as groans and sighs and the tone of them as well as the minimal movements of her body, face and arms as to gauge the girl's pain level and difficulty sleeping. She could even see the injured girl's state by just her breathing patterns. This was the only signs Miss Kilpatrick had to work from considering Melanie's mute and unconscious state.

~/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/~

Early one morning,Miss Prescott sighed audibly a couple of times as she tried to force her heavy eyelids open. Her airy groans got the attention of Bridgett, who noted that these sighs and groans were different from her usual sounds. The servant padded over to her bedside and seated herself, watching her patient closely. She had high hopes that the girl might come out of her weeks of stupor.

Bridgett touched the girl's wrist gently, wondering if this was the day she would regain consciousness. The servant watched her patient attentively as she struggled to open her eyes.

Miss Prescott turned her head slowly from side to side slowly upon her pillow. She moaned airily again as if waking up was a hard task. Her eyelids fluttered, then finally opened and stayed that way. Melanie blinked as her eyes adjusted to the soft light within the room. Her vision was blurry, and her eyes hurt already from exposing them to the light and working them to open. After another moment, her vision finally cleared and she could see the room around her.

She laid there quietly, as one often does upon waking. Her breathing was even and she felt a strange combination of incredibly rested, yet still extremely tired. Melanie could not feel her body but knew it was there in a bed. She felt a queer sort of numbness, as if anesthetized by it or her sleep. And mercifully, all this kept her from feeling any pain from her many wounds.

Melanie fought to keep her eyes open. She tried to look about the room, but it was starting to hurt to move her head from side to side. She could see the face of a young woman over her bedside looking down at her. _Was this the voice that I heard in my sleep, she wondered, her thoughts still a bit foggy._

Bridgett leaned over the ailing girl and spoke softly. "Aye, Miss. You're awake! It's about time you made your way back to the world."

Melanie said nothing. She focused on her caretaker, watching her closely and trying to listen to her. She was still in so much of a haze that she only seemed to comprehend every second or third word that was said.

"My name is Bridgett," said the servant. "I've been taking care of you for awhile. How do you feel, Miss Melanie?"

She could only answer with a sigh and a slow, pained blink of her eyes. She groaned lightly again.

"Are you in pain," asked the nurse. She laid her hand upon the girl's forehead, then stroked back her hair from her face.

Melanie felt tired again and let her eyelids fall gently shut. Once again, she heard her caretaker's Irish brogue, trying to rouse her.

"No, no, girl," Bridgett coaxed, running her index finger over her patient's eyelids, trying to tickle them into opening, "don't go back to sleep. Open your eyes."

Miss Prescott once again opened her eyes and gazed at her caretaker. She did so want to go back to sleep.

"Are you hungry," asked Bridgett.

The young lady could barely shake her head to indicate no blinking slowly. The thought of food was making her sick to her stomach.

"Are you thirsty?"

Melanie nodded her head, again, only slightly. She felt Bridgett hook her hand underneath her neck and lift her slightly, which made her wince as a slight pulse of heat seemed to move through her body, which she was starting to feel again.

Miss Prescott took a couple of sips of the cool water and coughed lightly. Miss Kilpatrick laid her head back gently on her pillow, then wiped the young lady's mouth with a soft cloth.

"Oh, Missy, 'tis good to see you awake," Bridgett remarked with a warm smile. "We thought we may have lost you."

_Lost? What? Melanie wondered, trying to will her mind to focus on words and thought_ _._

Even the task of the thinking process seemed to wear her out.

As Bridgett continued to fuss over Melanie, the girl forced her eyes to look around the small area. She finally realized that she was not in her own room; she was someplace different. And, she had no idea who this kind Irishwoman was.

She searched the room for a familiar face, but saw none. Melanie looked about especially for her father or mother. She was confused. She couldn't understand why they weren't at her bedside taking care of her. _Melanie also wondered what had happened; why was she there in this bed? _

"Can you speak, miss?" asked Bridgett.

Melanie just lay there in confusion, saying nothing. She knew she could speak, yet her mind couldn't seem to form the phrases or what she needed to say. Her mouth and lips were unable to utter the words that needed to be said. Trying to think of the word and move her lips and tongue to talk exhausted her. Just as well, the ethereal state of numbness had worn off and she now felt some pain and heat within her body.

With all this, she let out a tiny whimper as tears welled up in her eyes. Soon, large tears were rolling down her cheeks as she began to weep. She cried out of the sheer confusion she felt, but was too worn down to sob and heave.

Melanie longed for her parents to be there with her. She felt afraid as she didn't know where she was or why she was there. And, she could now feel fully the extent of her painful body.

Bridgett cocked her head to the side and felt pity for the poor girl. "Ah, Miss, don't cry. I know it hurts, but we will take good care of you. You are getting better little by little."

Bridgett dipped a cloth into a bowl of water by the bedside, wrung it out, and began to wipe away Miss Prescott's tears. She also dabbed at her forehead and neck with the rag. She dropped the linen back into the bowl and took Melanie's hand.

The nurse looked at the silent and fearful figure upon the bed, eyes full of tears, confusion, and fear. She squeezed Melanie's hand to reassure her. "Don't worry, girl. You are in good hands here." Bridgett smiled warmly down at her.

The door to the room was open and Bridgett heard voices in the hallway. She identified one of them and called out.

"Colonel Tarleton, come quickly!" she exclaimed. She heard him stop talking and his booted feet scampering up the hall toward the room.

Melanie was fighting exhaustion again. She just wanted to fall back to sleep and could not understand why this Irish lady would not let her.

"Yes," Tarleton acknowledged as he stuck his head into the door.

"Your pacifist's daughter has awakened," she cried with excitement.

"Oh," Banastre said curiously. He walked into the room looking weary. His uniform was in disarray, having just come off of an overnight patrol. He was unshaven and his auburn hair, now out of its regulation plait queue, hung wildly about his shoulders. The officer was still dressed in his boots and crème color breeches. His uniform jacket and cravat were gone. His waistcoat remained over his shirt, unbuttoned and hanging loose and carefree at his neck.

The Colonel approached the bed quietly and stared at the sight before him. He saw her eyes open for the first time ever. They were full of hurt and fear.

"How is she?" he queried, smiling at Bridgett.

"It is good. She is responsive and coherent," replied Miss Kilpatrick.

"Ah, good!" he answered. "You must tell the Lord General quickly! He'll want to see her!"

With that, Miss Kilpatrick left the room in search of Cornwallis, trusting Tarleton to stay with the Miss Prescott until she returned.

Banastre sat for a moment by her bedside and looked at the poor girl. And she just looked back at him.

Melanie's mind still wasn't understanding at all. Now she wondered who the man was sitting at her side and where the nice Irish lady went. She also felt another wave or pain and heat settle over her body. And still she wondered where her mother and father were.

Confusion and pain once again got the best of Melanie Prescott. Her eyes soon filled with tears again. She felt too tired to sob, so she did not fight the tears that she surrendered to. They streamed down her cheeks once again.

Banastre looked at the young lady and sighed. He had been injured in battle before, sliced and stabbed, so he knew quite well the pain she was feeling. But, he could also read the confusion of the situation in her eyes. Ban could also see that unmistakable look of fear, much like that seen in the eyes of a frightened wild animal.

Feeling for the girl, he wished to ease her fear. He pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at the tears in her eyes. Then, he gently brushed the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs.

"Don't be afraid, Miss Prescott. You are well protected here," he reaffirmed. He gently stroked her cheek and forehead with his fingers. He could tell that she was weak and exhausted. So when he watched her eyelids drop closed, he didn't try to revive her; he let her rest as he waited for the others to join him in the room.

~/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/~

After a few hours more had passed, Melanie Prescott once again opened her eyes and rejoined the world of the living. As her eyelids fluttered slowly open, Colonels Tavington and Tarleton and Major Bordon watched her. The three had stepped into the room briefly to spread a map out over Tavington's desk and view it when they heard the girl stirring.

The three commanders walked softly over to the bed of Miss Prescott. They could tell that she was working hard to revive again.

As the three stood over her watching her efforts, Major Bordon had an idea.

"I think Captain Wilkins should join us," he opined in a soft voice. "Maybe recognizing a familiar face and voice might help her coherency?"

"And keep her from being frightened when she sees Redcoats standing over her bed," Tarleton pointed out with a light snicker.

With that, Tavington walked out of the room and to the stairway. He shouted down into the open common area to anyone listening, summoning Jim Wilkins immediately.

Captain Wilkins happened to be at the dining table eating lunch. He left his plate and bounded up the stairs toward his commander's voice.

He traipsed into the room to find the dragoon leaders standing near Melanie's bed, watching her intently. The captain joined them there.

"Ah, I heard she was waking more," he said with a pleased smile.

"Yes," Tavington confirmed. "We'd like you to talk to her. It should do her well to see a familiar face."

"If she recognizes me," Jim said, frowning. "She's been through a lot. Who knows what she remembers."

Melanie again had to work at opening her heavy eyelids. As she blinked, the blur of her vision dissipated. She lay there quietly disoriented and looking about the room. She gazed thoughtfully at the faces of the men near her bed, desperately trying to recognize them, or to pull the names from her memory.

Then something clicked in her mind. She didn't know where she was, couldn't recall how she got there, and had never seen the men at her bedside before.

A look of fear clouded her face and eyes. She panicked inside when she realized the men might be Redcoats. Suddenly, she let out a frightened gasp and flinched. Melanie quickly rose up on her elbows and tried to scoot back away from them.

She winced aloud in pain as the jerking movement hurt her body. Her eyes then filled with tears of hurt as she collapsed back into her pillow. "Oh...Oh..." she whimpered in pain. The faces of the men above her were blurred by the tears in her eyes.

Slowly, she tried to prop herself up again on her elbows to get a good look at the three officers. Melanie yelped aloud again and fell back onto the bed.

Alex Bordon reached forward and gently grabbed her shoulders. "Easy, easy," he comforted. "We're not going to hurt you." The Major wanted to keep her back on the bed until she calmed a bit.

Even though Melanie was a pacifist, she felt an inexplicable fear that accompanied her disorientation. She once again tried to move away from them. The attempt was futile, however, under Bordon's strong grip.

"Don't be afraid," he soothed as the two Colonels looked on, "We won't hurt you."

She was breathing hard and wincing as her eyes darted from one officer to the next. She tried to settle down and contain her fear.

After another moment of confusion, Melanie was able to relax a bit and was still. She moved her eyes again silently about the room looking for a familiar face. She continued to rest and stay quiet because her struggle, small as it was, had worn her out.

The officers stared at her in concern. They wondered if she might have amnesia, or been struck dumb.

Captain Wilkins took her hand gently and bent his tall frame down a little closer to her.

"Hello again, Miss Prescott. It's been awhile since we seen each other last." His voice was soft with a warm smile on his face.

Melanie looked up at him, still mute, her face instantly showing a recognition of him. A faint smile lifted slightly the corners of her lips. The girl knew in her mind that she knew this man and was glad to see someone she recognized. She felt relieved and a bit safer now.

The three commanders looked at each other with raised eyebrows, glad that she had some sort of memory left, giving them hope that her mind was still intact.

"You _do_ know me, don't you," Jim coaxed, trying to get her to speak a word or two.

She smiled more now at him. Her mind worked frantically trying to remember his name.

The girl couldn't quite remember. Melanie wanted to ask him his name, but she still couldn't seem to put the motion of moving her mouth to talk with her thoughts inside.

The officers all watched, seeing her moving her lips as if trying to talk, then frowning in frustration. The men worried for a moment. They knew her capable of rudimentary sounds such as sobbing, pained moans, and occasional words in delirium. They wondered if all the trauma she went through somehow affected her speaking voice, leaving her mute.

Melanie finally let out a sigh, shaking her head slightly with apologetic eyes. Her frustration was now even more apparent. Her face clearly displayed that she knew him, but just couldn't get the name out.

"It's quite alright," replied Jim to her mute apology. "I'm Jim Wilkins."

Miss Prescott's face instantly lit up with even more of a smile and some excitement. The officers again observing all this looked at each other with raised eyebrows, glad she was making some progress.

Wilkins squeezed her hand. She barely and weakly squeezed his back. The she dropped her hand from his, raising it slowly, enough to touch the green cuff of Wilkins' uniform jacket. Then she moved her finger just over the cuff onto the red material of his sleeve. As she did this, she gave Jim a quizzical look, still unable to get the words in sync with the question in her mind.

He could tell right away what she wanted to know. "Oh, I'm now Captain Wilkins, of His Majesty's Cavalry. Tavington's Legion; green dragoons."

The girl reacted to his announcement with an incredulous look upon her silent face. She sighed again, still trying to talk. Finding that she still couldn't she looked at Jim and gave him another look of question, her eyes and slight shake of her head mutely asking why.

"This gentleman over here," began Jim, motioning toward Bordon, "met with our Loyalist Militia one day, and recruited me."

Melanie smiled but felt overwhelmed. The officers could tell this and let her take things slowly.

Melanie studied the men about her again. She recalled that when the one with the strawberry blonde hair spoke moments ago, that he had an English accent. She wasn't sure if they were from England, or Loyalists residing in the colonies fighting for His Majesty.

Inside she finally felt that the thoughts were coming easier, and felt the words starting to form. She thought she could match the words and sounds up now.

The officers' patient was rewarded when she spoke her first coherent words in weeks. "Are you English?" she asked weakly, almost in a whisper.

"Yes," answered Bordon.

The four men towered over her, staying mute. They had agreed it best not to impart too much information to her. They would let her ask the questions, also to see how intact her mind was. The commanders had also decided it best not to tell her of the death of her family until she was stronger. They knew that her grieving would greatly hamper any recovery left that she had to make.

"What is this place?" Melanie asked meekly.

William Tavington moved a little closer to the bed to speak to Miss Prescott. "You're at Fort Carolina."

"Why?"

Alex and Ban looked at William, the three of them trying to determine who would answer her questions. Tavington nodded to Bordon, giving him silent permission to go ahead and question the injured girl. Even though she was a pacifist, Bordon, the fort's interrogator, would glean shards of information from her words, hoping to sift through it and find something of use to them.

"Do you remember anything?" Alex queried.

Melanie's head started to spin. She closed her eyes and sighed. "Of what?" she asked.

"What is the last thing you remember?" Bordon asked. "Stay quiet for a moment and think." There was quiet as she closed her eyes again and thought.

She kept her eyes closed as she began to speak, then opened them a few words into her statement.

"I think...I went with Father to pick my brother up from the coach...in the village...when he came home last."

The officers exchanged glances once again. They all assumed immediately that she remembered none of the massacre. While disappointed that she could not provide immediate information of the incident, they thought it merciful that she could not recall the horrific attack.

She spoke again in a soft voice. "Where are my parents?"

Bordon deflected the question right away. "So, you recall nothing?"

It was enough to do it. Melanie answered his question. "No. Why am I here?"

"Miss Prescott," the Major began, "you were hurt very badly. We found you and brought you here to the fort where our surgeons are."

Melanie had felt her pain upon this last waking and her subsequent movement, but had no idea how she was injured or why she was ill. "How was I hurt?"

Bordon steadied his voice and kept it disaffected, yet gentle. "Your family and home were attacked by rebel extremists. We arrived in the middle of the skirmish. That's where we found you."

"My family," she asked emphatically, "where are they now?"

Again, Bordon skillfully avoided the question. "We were able to apprehend some of your attackers."

_Apprehend?_ She was confused and had so many questions. Who were these men? Had they truly saved the lives of she and her family? How did they know about the attack? What was the outcome of their battle with her attackers. All this made her head throb and served to create more confusion. Her mind was formulating questions faster than the time it took her to think them over and try to logic them out herself.

"Who are you?" she asked innocently.

William, once again moved close to the bed to answer her question. Bordon was happy to let him do so.

"I am Lieutenant Colonel William Tavington of His Majesty's Green Dragoons. This is a fellow commander of the cavalry, Colonel Banastre Tarleton. And this is my Aide De Camp, Major Alexander Bordon. And of course you know Captain Wilkins from years ago, I understand."

The Major looked back down at Miss Prescott. "Colonel Tavington here was most generous to give up his room and bed for your recovery; that is where you are now. We did not want you in the hospital tents with the men."

With this, Ban excused himself to inform Cornwallis and O'Hara that Melanie Prescott was awake and speaking. Earlier when he had been called into the room by Miss Kilpatrick, she has left to seek the General with the news, but had returned having not found him. Now Banaster was off to try to find him again.

Jim Wilkins excused himself as well, wanting to get back to his lunch. He took Melanie's hand again, put it to his lips and kissed it softly, just as a gentleman would do. The young woman smiled up at him.

"Miss Prescott, I'll be back later to check in on you," he assured. "And when you feel better, we'll catch up on our family's businesses, then we'll laugh and reminisce about when we were kids running wild in your orchard."

With that comment, the two old friends shared a laugh. Melanie still speaking softly, replied, "I'd like that. Please come back soon."

He bowed his head slightly to her and left the room leaving Will and Alex to stay with the young woman.

"Are my parents here at the Fort?" asked Melanie.

"No," replied William. He was careful to keep his answer short and flat; not to convey any emotion to her. He knew the day would come when she would have to be told the truth, but she was just not well enough to take the terrible news of the slaughter. The generals wanted nothing to jeopardize her recovery.

Still, Melanie pressed on. The need to have someone from her family there beside her was overwhelming.

"Are they in a prison camp?" She was grasping at straws, hoping someone could tell her where they were and why they weren't with her.

"No," Tavington repeated in the same tone. He could tell she was getting agitated and might hurt herself again.

"Calm down now, Miss Prescott. You've been very ill—near death—the last two months. Don't drain what little strength you have with worry."

"Colonel, could you please get word to them at home that I am better now and want to see them," she urged, her voice awash in desperation.

~/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/~

"Colonel Tarleton, this is splendid news," Lord Cornwallis gushed.

"Indeed it is, Sir," General O'Hara agreed.

The two Generals flanked Banastre as they accompanied him through the hallway and back to Tavington's quarters. Cornwallis was very anxious to see and speak with Melanie Prescott.

Tarleton looked at General Cornwallis. "Yes! She is speaking, alert and coherent," Ban stated. "But it seems she remembers nothing of the incident. She does have some fight left in her, though."

"Well, at least she can think and speak," Cornwallis remarked. "And the fight she is giving you can only mean she's getting better!" He was optimistic that the young lady would be able to remember some things that the English could use to their advantage.

~/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/~

In the room, Melanie was still calling for her parents and was on the verge of tears again.

"But why can't I return home to recover?" She protested. "My family can take care of me."

"It's not a matter of who is tending you," Tavington pointed out, "it's a matter of adequate protection."

Melanie was frustrated and in pain as she lay there getting no answers to her questions.

She looked up at the ceiling and tried to resign herself to the fact that she could not go home.

She sighed. "Then could someone please fetch a member of my family to at least come and stay with me?" she pleaded.

Right after she'd asked that, in walked the generals with Colonel Tarleton. Major Bordon and Colonel Tavington both stood up and bowed their heads slightly to their superior officers.

"My Lord," Tavington acknowledged as a silent Bordon stood next to him.

O'Hara and Cornwallis slid past the two subordinates and stood opposite Tavington and Bordon on the other side of the bed. They studied the frightened and ailing figure that lay on the bed.

"Ah, welcome back, Miss Prescott," O'Hara greeted.

"Yes! Nice to see you awake," Cornwallis exclaimed.

Oh no, Melanie thought. More officers! She felt flustered at all the men in red, gathered at her bedside and staring at her as if she was on display. She still wanted one of her parents there to shelter her.

Cornwallis took a small step forward. Bordon stepped back close again to Miss Prescott's bedside and looked at the commander.

"Miss, this is-"

General Cornwallis put his hand up to motion for the Major to cease his introduction. Then Cornwallis took yet another step closer and leaned down over the bed. He laid his hand gently on the lady's forehead and smoothed back her blonde hair.

He peered down at her, then spoke. "Do you remember me?"

Melanie blinked her eyes a couple of times before closing them completely. Then, she opened them up again and looked hard at the man. She knew she had seen him before, but where she could not remember. Then, after another moment, something came into her memory.

"Yes," she answered softly and tentatively. "I have seen you before. But, I am sorry, I cannot recall your name."

"I am Charles Cornwallis," he replied with a gentle smile.

"Yes!," she recollected. "Now I remember. You have worked with my father before, haven't you?" Her mind pictured him sitting at a dinner table with her father. However, her memory was still hazy as to when and where this had taken place.

"Yes, bef-", he stopped himself short, not wanting to divulge the bad news of her family and hurt her recuperation. He corrected himself in a nonchalant manner. "Yes, I have worked with him before."

Lord Cornwallis patted her hand and smiled. "Well, Miss, we must let you get your rest. You still have the way ahead of you to get better. I am very pleased that your memory was not destroyed."

Generals O'Hara and Cornwallis nodded to the three subordinate officers, turned, then stepped toward the door.

As they did, Melanie spoke up. "Am I a prisoner?" she asked, taking them all by surprise.

All the officers turned back to look at the young woman. Cornwallis answered her.

"No. You are our guest," he assured her. "You will be well cared for here and adequately protected. You will remain here until further notice. Rest well, Miss Prescott."

"Gentleman," Cornwallis said to the two Colonels and the Major as he turned to leave again.

Alex Bordon moved back toward the bed. There, he helped Melanie take a drink of water and sponged her head again with a cool cloth. Then the Major pulled the covers up to her chin and tucked them in tightly around her to keep her warm.

"Rest now," he suggested. "Miss Kilpatrick will be in to tend to you."

"Miss Prescott," Tavington said in parting as he nodded to her. Tarleton nodded as well. The three officers then left the room, leaving Melanie alone with her thoughts.

She lay still on her back looking up at the ceiling, feeling terribly lonely and afraid. Melanie swallowed back the feeling and turned her head toward the window.

As she looked outside, her thoughts ran circles inside her head. _Why would Father and Mother leave me here? There must be a good reason. Maybe they needed help to take care of me. Could be they couldn't move me after the surgeon had worked on me? Still, why don' t they come visit me? Father must be away trying to stop this war and mother must have her hands full with Josie and Jon. Matthew must be back at the seminary by now. I am sure my family will come and visit me soon. I can't wait to see them-I miss them so much! I want to go home!_

Her eyelids grew heavy as she continued to dwell on her family and going home. Then her thoughts blended with a grey mist within her mind, and she fell asleep, secure within the haven of the fort in the care of the British.


	5. Chapter 5 Nightmare

Chapter 5 Nightmare

In the ensuing days after Melanie had regained consciousness and met the officers, she slowly continued to heal. She was sleeping less and whenever awake, retained her coherency. She was not again overtaken by unconsciousness.

Miss Prescott's pain dissipated little by little with each passing day. She also regained her appetite, although sticking to a rather tame diet to ward off nausea.

Feeling more comfortable with her situation and foreign surroundings, Melanie Prescott tried hard to accept her temporary confinement with little fight. She was even able to remember the names of the different officers and servants and fit those names to the correct faces.

Lately, Melanie had been sitting up and standing, first with the help of a caretaker, then on her own. She eventually started to walk again, taking only a few steps at a time on the arm of someone. She had been anxious to wander about the fort and its main house to see more of her temporary home. Her walks were limited to the confines of Colonel Tavington's small room as she didn't have the strength yet to venture any further.

Walking was the most frustrating action to her. The motion of it caused her nagging pain still. The energy expended on the movement wore her down quickly.

Often, Melanie looked for the familiar face of a family member to appear at the door. She so hoped that upon waking, she might find her mother dutifully seated next to her bed, giving her that serene smile that Melanie loved so much. The girl also longed to have her father in the room, and to learn of his latest efforts to stop the fighting. Trying twice to pen a short letter to her parents, the effort was abandoned as the small act of writing exhausted her mentally and emotionally.

On one of those days, curiosity possessed Miss Prescott. With dread, she willed herself to look at her injured body for the first time.

Bridgett helped her to stand in front of the full length mirror in Tavington's room. There, Miss Kilpatrick pulled two chairs together, back to back, and positioned the still weak Melanie in between them to use for support. When Miss Prescott felt steady enough, Bridgett left her alone in the room.

For a moment, Melanie stood in the solitude, only looking at the floor. She sighed, knowing she may be upset at how she looked. She imagined the worst disfigurement according to the pain she had been in and the officer's accounts to her of how badly she had been hurt.

She slowly and stiffly slipped off her robe. Melanie then raised her eyes cautiously to peer at the reflection before her. And as she stood naked in front of the mirror, she drew in for the first time, the sight of her battered body.

Melanie's eyes moistened with tears as she saw her fragile, sliced up body for the first time. With a heavy heart, she closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath.

"Be brave, Melanie," she told herself. "You're alright. Everything will be fine. The wounds are still healing. You're alive, thank God!" She tried to convince herself of this as she kept her eyes tightly clamped shut another moment, willing away the tears.

After another minute, she opened her eyes and looked again at her reflection. Melanie sniffled, then sighed as she quietly studied her body in the mirror.

On her body many fresh scars and still healing wounds of the attack. She was amazed at just how many of them there were. Melanie wondered how many slices, stabs, and stitches her body bore but couldn't find the courage to count them.

The young woman lifted her arms weakly, wanting to touch each cicatrix, as if to confirm that it was real. She began to trace the wounds lightly with her fingers.

The stab and slash wounds and scars on her forearm, thigh, shoulders, and side of her neck tickled her fingertips ominously. But she winced aloud as she tried to touch the most severe of all her wounds; the one in her side, which had nearly killed her. It was still very tender, swollen, and shown an angry shade of red.

Melanie continued to gaze at her flawed body in the mirror, marveling still at the many wounds. Her emotions swirled within her head as she studied her marred skin. She was stunned, repulsed, amazed, and depressed all at once over the sight. But as she continued to touch the remnants of that awful day, she felt very lucky to be alive.

Within a few contemplative moments, she felt a strange acceptance of her damaged skin as the haze of the initial shock of the sight wore off. Melanie then raised her eyes to look beyond the wounds and stitches to the rest of her being.

Her color was no longer the youthful and peachy pink that it used to be, but was now a washed out alabaster. Her facial complexion was drained of its warm ivory and had been replaced with a lifeless beige. The usual rosy glow of her cheeks was gone. Those twin apples were now hollow. She bore dark circles under her eyes.

The mirror of her soul—her eyes—no longer shown with the porcelain blue and vitality they once possessed. Instead, they looked tired and were sunken back into her face enough to notice. Those eyes also reflected the trouble of recent times and looked absent.

The incident had robbed her cherry red lips of their hue as well. It was now just a dull mouth, no longer sensual, which seemed to lose itself amidst the new dullness of her face.

As she gazed at herself, it seemed that nothing had been spared. Even her long and thick head of hair had suffered. Her sunlight blonde hair, which seemed to always shine brightly and was full of sprightly curls, was now dull with limp waves.

The curvaceous and fit body she once boasted was now haggard and drawn. She wasn't sure how much weight she'd lost. Twenty pounds? Thirty pounds? Her beautiful shape, which would have been a cherished prize for a husband, was now frail and thin. Melanie once walked tall, her head and shoulders up and back, with a smile that beamed from her face; now, she struggled just to stand upright.

Her mind spun in a whirlwind with questions. Would she ever look as she once did? Would her wounds ever heal? Would a man ever fall in love with her scarred being again? Would a man be repulsed by the scars, or could he overlook them? Would a husband be willing to make love to a flawed body? Would she ever be a young beauty again? Would things ever be normal for her again?

Even though unsure of things and wrestling with bodily insecurity, she was grateful that her mind and body, albeit flawed, were still intact. Melanie was also very thankful that her family and home were still around, as well.

~/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/~

This day was a particularly bad day for Melanie Prescott. She was exceptionally down. She hadn't slept well the night before due to pain. That discomfort lingered on into the morning hours. The ache of her injuries gnawed annoyingly at her.

She'd also missed her parents, family, and home terribly, longing to see them again. She knew she'd feel better if only they would come to her.

Along with pining for her family, other factors and emotions had taken a huge toll on her mind. Her body's physical weakness, inability to remember the incident, the ebb and flow of pain, and insomnia had splintered her mind for the moment. Melanie was not thinking straight at all, causing reason and ration to depart as well.

In the hazy shreds of her mind, Melanie had made the decision to try to find her parents. The irrationality of her thoughts convinced her that they were near—either in the confines of the fort, or just outside of it. The girl was sure she could find them.

As Melanie lay in her bed, she willed herself to move. First, she slowly and weakly pushed herself up to her elbows. Once supported on them, she took a breath and sat up painfully the rest of the way.

She sat up in the bed for another moment, breathing deeply and letting some of the ache wane. Then, she eased her legs, with some discomfort, over the side of the bed and onto the floor. As her toes touched the floor, she tried to summon enough power to stand up on her own, something she had only been able to do recently with assistance.

Putting her feet flat on the floor, her legs found a little power to push her weakened form up to stand. She rose slowly, and once straight, she nearly lost her balance.

When Melanie felt steady, she stepped cautiously at a snail's pace toward the door. She felt happy and satisfied to be walking without help.

Once at the door, she weakly grasped the knob and turned it. The girl was able to pull the door open just enough to let her thin figure slither through it and out of the room.

In the hallway, Melanie felt a little cold and shivered. She had not remembered that she was only wearing her nightgown. As she fought off the next shudder of cold, her head started to spin. She leaned against the wall outside the room for support.

When the dizziness passed, she pressed on. Melanie was determined to find them now. The moment of rest against the wall renewed her confidence to keep going.

Melanie Prescott walked on, touching the wall to help keep her equilibrium. She was careful to take slow and soft steps; she did not want to hurt herself with jerky movements.

After a few more steps, her vision started to blur. She told herself this was all just because she hadn't been out of bed recently and that it would pass soon. Melanie stopped and rested against the wall again. After blinking a couple of times, she thought some of the fog in her vision was starting to pass.

In another moment, Melanie grew impatient as she waited to regain full vision back. She pushed on anyway with the blurriness remaining. The girl could see enough of the outline of the hallway, and the light from the window to walk. And she could reach an arm in front of her and lead with the toes of her foot to guide herself around.

Another minute of the cautious, blind steps found her panting and exhausted. She felt as if she was going to fall and clung to the wall to stay up. Melanie rested there another moment, trying to slow her breathing down and find some strength to carry on.

Something made her carry on, though feeling worse again now. She took even smaller steps this time and leaned on the wall as she did.

Now, as she stepped, she felt nothing under her lead foot. She squinted into the haze of her vision and could barely discern a stairway. Still hanging on to the wall, she took a cautious step forward to descend the steps, her irrational mind not reminding her to think that she could fall and get hurt.

She hesitated again for a moment and pulled her foot back. Melanie became lightheaded. The young woman was no longer cold either. The struggle of the short walk had caused small beads of sweat on her face.

Impatience drove her on again. So feeling lightheaded, unable to see straight, and near exhaustion, she put her foot in front of her to step down.

"What are you doing?"

It was a deep male voice. Melanie turned her head weakly and looked toward the sound. She couldn't get her eyes to focus on the blurry figure.

Colonel Tavington had entered the hallway to retrieve some papers from his quarters. He was stunned to see Miss Prescott out of her room. He was even more alarmed when he realized she was standing at the top of the stairway. He thought her in no condition to walk alone and had a feeling she'd have a disastrous trip down them, falling fast all the way.

She was a sorry sight, clinging to the wall for support and looking lost and exhausted. Though, she looked pretty to him, helpless there in her nightgown, and somewhat disheveled and tired.

He leapt to where she stood and slipped his arm about her waist. The Colonel held onto her securely so she wouldn't stumble down the stairwell.

"Miss Prescott," he began, "what are you doing out here?"

"I'm going home," she declared hoarsely. She tried to take a step, but her body was turned at an odd angle, her legs still in the stairwell and her upper body turned slightly into the hallway. Her body was pressed tightly against the Colonel's, steadying it and preventing her from moving.

As William looked at her, she seemed confused. Her eyelids were heavy and her color as white as her nightdress. The officer could tell that she wasn't in a rational state of mind, yet her trip into the hallway told him she had been trying to think clearly.

"Oh, no you're not!" Tavington answered her declaration. He bent down and hooked his other arm under her knees and gently lifted her up, careful not to hurt her fragile and healing body further.

William started to walk softly back to her room, glad to get her away from that stairway and to the safety of her bed. "You're too weak to make the journey; you can't even walk!"

As he entered the room, he looked down at Melanie, who had tears in her eyes. As he neared the bed, she feebly protested.

"I want to see my parents!"

Tavington sighed as he placed her back in bed. He pulled the covers up around her neck, then sat on the side of the bed near her.

"Shhhhhhh. I know you do," he soothed. "Don't cry."

With that, he reached down and wiped her tears away with his fingers. "You need to conserve every wee bit of strength you have left to get well. Don't waste it on tears."

The Colonel felt her forehead as she whimpered. "I think you've a bit of a fever." He stretched over to the night table and wrung out a wet linen pulled from the wash basin. He folded it into a compress and placed it on her forehead, letting the bottom of it cover her eyes.

"There now," said Will.

"But Colonel," she protested through her tears.

"Shhhh. Just rest."

William sat quietly for a moment watching her settle down, her chest rising in a jerk every so often, drawing in a breath for lingering sobs. He hoped she would fall asleep. He figured she had probably worn herself out anyway.

_Poor girl, he thought._

~/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/~

A few more days had passed since Melanie's first trip out into the hallway. She felt a little bit better, regaining some of her strength. Her pain was diminishing little by little. And she could now walk about the small room on her own, though it still made her tired.

Even with her small bits of progress, she wasn't happy. She was restless and frustrated. Melanie still hadn't seen or heard anything from anyone in her family. Everyone taking care of her could not answer her questions. In fact, she felt like some of the officers were evading her queries about her home and parents.

Her mind wondered about the situation and she knew something wasn't right. Maybe, for some reason, they weren't allowing the family into the fort to see her? Or maybe they had been quarantined with some illness? Melanie also suspected that they may be imprisoned somewhere.

Miss Prescott grew tired of speculating and decided to get some answers. So, she thought she'd go to the highest source to get the answers about her family. She would go visit Lord General Cornwallis. After all, he had known her father, and surely he could answer her questions.

The young woman put her robe on and left her room, still moving slow and stiffly. She knew it wasn't altogether appropriate to visit the Lord General in her robe, but she knew he'd understand why his guest wasn't properly dressed.

Melanie walked slowly down the hall. Her steps were calculated and careful, wanting to make sure her footing and gate remained stable. She took her time, pacing herself so as not to tire before she could reach Cornwallis' office—even though she had no idea where it was. She leaned lightly against the wall as she stepped, afraid she may become lightheaded and fall. The girl held her head up and fixed her eyes straight ahead, trying to fight off dizziness.

Soon, Miss Prescott had reached the end of the hallway. As she turned the corner, she hesitated for a moment as she found herself at the top of a stairway. She was unsure about going down the steps. After drawing in a deep breath, she steadied herself, clutched the railing, and took a step down.

Melanie winced as the action shook her ever so slightly and made her wounds ache. But, the hurt passed as quickly as it came, so she continued on. She took her second step and drew in a sharp breath. Then, she reminded herself just to take her time moving down the steps. She hoped there wouldn't be another stairwell after this one.

Just after Melanie took her third step, she heard someone coming up the steps. She looked down and recognized the familiar red and green of a Dragoon. Her heart leapt, thinking he could assist her the rest of the way down and escort her to Lord Cornwallis.

The man lifted his head and looked up at her. At the same time, Melanie looked down and locked eyes with Major Bordon, the officer ascending the stairs. A stunned look crossed his face. His steps quickened as he moved up the steps to the girl.

"Good Lord!" he exclaimed as her raced toward her. "What are you doing out here?"

In an instant he reached her. To him, she looked too tired and sick yet to be out on the stairway. He couldn't believe she had not fallen. After all, she had only just begun to move about her room on her own.

The Major gently took her elbow in his large hand, steadying her. Melanie answered his question.

"I'm going to see Lord Cornwallis," she replied. "I want to go home."

Bordon sighed and shook his head. He had figured that something like this might happen. He knew she missed her family and was getting restless. The officer wondered how much longer they could keep the truth of her family's horrible fate from her.

"Come on," said Alex as he turned her around to face up the stairs. "Let's get you back to your bed."

"But, Major," she protested, seeming confused as to his actions. "Would you please escort me to the General?"

"Not now, Miss Prescott," Major Bordon replied. He took her right arm over his shoulders and slipped his left arm around her waist. His right hand reached up and found her hand resting on his shoulder. He then clasped her hand securely as his other arm held her body tightly.

He spoke as he helped her back up the steps. "You need your rest. I'm sure he will speak with you later."

Before she knew it, they had reached the top of the landing again. The young woman realized he was taking her back to the room.

Melanie stopped, her body going rigid and holding Alex back from guiding her further. "Major Bordon, please! I need to find my parents." Her voice was weak and shaky.

"Come now, you're tired," he asserted, moving forward again, firmly guiding her back to her room.

Melanie's mind spun itself around. She was not going back to her room; she was determined to find either Cornwallis or her parents.

The girl stopped again. She tried to pull away from Major Bordon. His grip was firm, but not painful. He wouldn't let her go.

She tried to pull away from him yet another time. She winced as she did, the movement jarring her wounded body.

"I want to see my family!" Her voice had raised a little and was filled with panic.

The young woman tried a third time to get away from Bordon. Alex continued to hold her securely, but he was afraid she would hurt herself. And, although she was fighting him weakly, he feared she would run her energy down further.

Alexander quickly and gently as he could picked Miss Prescott up. He carried her back toward her room, holding her firmly against his chest.

"Put me down, Major!" Melanie cried. Her voice was slightly louder and strained. She struggled in his arms, trying to get back to the floor to stand.

The Major said nothing as he kept up his trek back to her quarters. Melanie wiggled in his grip, still, wanting to get away.

"I want to go home!" she pleaded, her voice breaking. She was near tears. "Put me down!"

At the other end of the hallway, Colonel Tavington was sitting at the small desk in Bordon's room when he heard the commotion. He recognized the hoarse voice and raced to the door. He looked into the hallway and saw his second in command carrying Miss Prescott into her room. William left his chambers to see what was going on.

Inside the room, Melanie was weakly fighting Bordon still. The Major could feel her starting to wear down as he approached her bed.

Tavington entered the room to find Bordon holding the struggling girl. "What's going on?" he asked.

"I found her on the stairway. She was lucky not to have fallen," answered Bordon.

"Colonel!" she begged, "I want to see my family!"

Tavington watched her as she weakly fought to free herself. He knew she was not going to stop until she found her parents. This was the second time she had left her room to find them. He could tell that this wouldn't be the last.

The Colonel looked on as Alex Bordon placed the girl carefully back into her bed. She was still limply fighting Bordon, trying to wriggle out of the bed. Bordon held her there securely as Tavington stepped through the doorway and joined them in the room.

William knew that Miss Prescott missed her family desperately. He closed his eyes and heaved a heavy sigh.

"Let me go," she cried weakly. "I want to go home!" Melanie was wearing down quickly, yet still struggling against Bordon.

William neared the bed. "Miss Prescott, I know you wish to see your family but I am afraid that is not possible."

She stopped trying to fight Bordon and looked at the Colonel. He had her full attention.

"Why not?" she asked.

"Because your home and plantation are now in the hands of His Majesty King George," Tavington answered. "Our army is now ensconced there."

"But my family? Aren't they still there?" she queried.

"No, they're not," the commander replied.

"Where are they?" Melanie asked in a frustrated tone. "Are they in a prison camp somewhere?"

"No," William said. Then he paused for an instant to find gentle words. Tavington dreaded this moment. He began slowly. "Miss, the attack of the rebels on your family was very savage."

Will stopped for a moment and looked at Melanie. He saw that she looked at him squarely, desperately seeking an answer. He continued.

"I am sorry to have to tell you this, but your family is gone. Your parents, your two brothers and your sister perished in the assault. You are the only survivor, and we almost lost you."

Miss Prescott sat stock still and stared straight at the Colonel. Her eyes were full of confusion and accusation. The two officers stayed quiet, allowing the news of the deaths to sink in.

Melanie was filled with disbelief. She heard what Tavington just told her, but her mind didn't seem to understand it. She couldn't believe he had the nerve to say that to her. This didn't seem right; her family couldn't be dead.

After another moment of thinking, she became angry that he would say such a thing to her. She had no idea what he was trying to get at.

With narrowed eyes, she broke the silence. "You're lying," she accused in a small, contemptuous voice.

Will sighed and shook his head. He looked down at the floor, then back up at her.

"I wish I was, Miss Prescott. But, I am not." He took yet another step closer to the bed.

Melanie became frustrated. She thought he was playing a game with her. After all, she didn't know these British officers well at all.

Heaving a sigh of frustration, she looked about the room, trying to shake herself out of the spell of his words. Disbelief and confusion ruled her still.

"No," she replied firmly. "I don't believe it. There's something else to this, something you're not telling me."

"I'm afraid there's not, Miss," Bordon assured her, speaking up for the first time in a few moments.

Melanie was dumbfounded. She tried to talk, but nothing came out. She shook her head again and looked at Bordon, hoping he would say something to contradict what they had just said. The poor girl just wanted to hear something—anything that would give her hope.

"This can't be," she repeated in confusion to Bordon. "I was just with them. Matthew was home and—"

"That was months ago," Tavington spoke up in a sympathetic tone. "You were unconscious for so long and recovering—"

"This isn't true!" Melanie interrupted. Her voice was fraught with desperation. Miss Prescott hesitated an instant, waiting for the two officers to say that it wasn't true.

When neither spoke up to confirm this after another agonizing minute, dread and realization began to press in on her. Her head began to spin as her heart beat hard in her chest. With a constricted throat, she felt as if she had to work hard to take her next breath.

Alex and William could both tell that she was in the midst of a mixture of shock, disbelief, and realization. They both wanted to help her with this, but felt badly about having to break this news to her. It was simply awful.

Miss Prescott stared blankly ahead for an instant. She then closed her eyes and shook her head, then blinked once again, as if trying to clear the fog out of her mind.

"No...this...this isn't..." she stammered, looking at Bordon again, with desperation clouding her pretty face.

He placed his hand on her forearm in a gesture of comfort. "They would have come to the fort by now to be with you, or we would have taken you back to them," Bordon stated in his deep, baritone voice.

Tavington spoke again. "Those rebel zealots slaughtered your family the same way they tried to kill you."

Melanie went numb and could no longer talk. She looked mute upon the faces of both officers.

"Miss, they were fleeing as we arrived," Bordon declared in a voice laced with empathy. "You were barely alive. We didn't think you'd make the ride back here to the fort."

Shock filtered through Melanie's being. Fright possessed her as she realized she would be all alone now with no family to guide, protect, or love her. Sorrow gripped her, causing words she had to say and questions she had to ask to stick in her throat. Tears choked her and blurred her eyes.

"Be assured that they were given a proper Christian burial," said Colonel Tavington. He knew that she probably wondered what happened to their bodies. Assurance that her family members' remains were handled with dignity and caring could help her in the grieving and healing process.

With this, everything collapsed around Melanie. She felt as though time stood still. Barely able to breathe or think, a shriek tore from her throat. The girl then doubled over on to the bed, crying hysterically.

Major Bordon stood up from the bed and next to his commander looking at the pitiful sight. Both officers were speechless as the continued to stand there, wringing their hands, not knowing what to do, say, or how to comfort the poor girl.

Soon, Miss Bridgett Kilpatrick dashed into the room when she heard the commotion. "Jesus, Mary, Joseph!", she exclaimed in her thick Irish brogue. "What have you done to her!" She put her arms around Melanie and began to rock her in an attempt to comfort the poor girl. The servant stared scornfully up at the two dragoons.

"She knows of her family, now," Tavington informed the servant.

Forgetting that she was talking to officers, she let loose with a tirade toward them. "Get out, the both of you, now! See what you've done! You've upset her enough for one day! Go now, before you disrupt her recovery anymore! I shall speak to General O'Hara about this!"

Tavington and Bordon, both brave officers and proud men, would have normally not let a woman—let alone an indentured servant—get away with talking to them like this. But, considering the sad situation and their inability to comfort the young woman at the moment, the two men firmly tucked their tails between their legs and slipped out of the room. They could still hear Miss Prescott's sorrowful wails as they closed the door behind them.


	6. Chapter 6 Grief And Confusion

Chapter 6 Grief and Confusion

The days following Melanie's discovery of her family's deaths were a blur as grief possessed her and ran its natural course. She was listless and stayed in bed most of the time, crying and not speaking much to anyone. There were moments when her mind would roar and rebel in confusion, wondering about her family's last moments as they lay dying and how something like this could have happened. Other times, her soul ached for the loved ones she missed so much and would never see again. Sometimes she felt overwhelmed when she thought about what to do next with her life and how to go on without them. Other moments her mind was completely blank and her soul empty.

The officers, her doctor, and Miss Kilpatrick worried about the poor girl. They knew that the grief could set back her recovery, and they fretted that a loss of the will to live would do even more harm. So they kept working with her to at least keep her on a steady road to recovery while she grieved.

Turns were taken by the officers and Bridgett in helping her walk and regain her strength. She had to be prodded by them to get out of bed for just a few moments for exercise. Melanie didn't talk about the tragedy as she walked with aid; she just did as they wished, barely going through the motions, usually saying nothing. The girl had lost her appetite as well and ate hardly anything.

For Miss Prescott, her world had changed forever. She despaired in her loneliness and the walls of grief pressed in on her. Melanie no longer cared about anything, especially herself.

Major Bordon entered Miss Prescott's room to find her laying in bed staring blindly at the wall as Bridgett Kilpatrick sewed quietly. He set the bowl of soup down on the small table and turned to the servant.

"Miss Kilpatrick," he began, "Would you please leave for a few moments? I must speak with her alone."

She looked up from her sewing with a distrustful look. The servant had wished that the officers would leave the poor girl alone to grieve in peace. She was hesitant to leave her ward's side.

Bridgett frowned as she rose from her chair. "Major, try not to upset her more than she already is."

Bordon's eyes narrowed at the lady. He loathed the idea of an indentured servant telling him what to do. "Miss, I don't believe I can do or say anything that will surpass the fact that her family was slaughtered. Now leave us!" His tone was irritated and short.

Miss Kilpatrick picked up her sewing and left, not wishing to tangle with the officer. As she shut the door on her way out, Bordon picked up the bowl of soup and stepped closer to the bed. He placed the broth on the nightstand and sat down in the chair.

Melanie had been so wrapped up in her emptiness that she did not notice the officer. She continued to stare blankly ahead.

Alex studied the girl for a moment. To him, she was pretty even in the midst of grief. There was something about her forlorn look and demeanor that made her appealing, as if he wanted to protect her from something. Momentarily, his mind drifted as he wished she would cling to him, wanting to feel her body in his arms as she cried. He wanted to comfort her.

Her hair was in her face. Alex could not resist brushing the blonde, lifeless locks back away from it. After he did, he then slowly stroked her head and tussled hair, hoping to bring her out of her stupor.

"Miss Prescott," he spoke softly, "I have brought you some soup."

"I'm not hungry," she replied with a weak voice.

"You need to eat," urged Alex. "You must keep your strength up if you are to recover fully from this."

"I don't care," Melanie said, her voice trembling, "Recovery makes no difference to me anymore. I've nothing to live for."

"Nonsense," Bordon challenged. "You are young yet and still have your whole life ahead of you."

"You've not lost your entire family," stated Melanie. "You have no idea how I feel."

"True, I haven't lost my family, but I have known sorrow and grief," Bordon assured. He was starting to get irritated with her. _This is war time, damn it! It is a time of death and sadness and everyone loses someone! _

"Go away," said Melanie. She just wanted to close her eyes and fall into a merciful and dreamless sleep.

"Is there anything I can do for you," Bordon asked, keeping his irritation in check. He felt badly for her, and he understood that grief takes time, but he thought she wasn't doing enough to help herself through the process.

"No, not now," answered Melanie in a cold and faraway voice. "You should have left me there to die with them."

"Yes, well, if we' d have known that was what you wanted, we would have left you there to rot!," Bordon snapped back smartly. "But you're here now at the fort under our protection, so don't make us feel that our rescue efforts were all in vain. Humor us a little and try to get better, Miss Prescott!"

Tears began to sting at Melanie's eyes. She could not believe he'd just made that remark. Her heart was hurting enough already; she didn't need some officer making presumptions about her grief and how she dealt with it.

"Leave me alone!" she said as a tear rolled down the side of her face and disappeared into the hair upon her pillow.

"As you wish." Major Bordon got up and pulled the chair back away from the bed. He said nothing more to the ailing girl as he left the room. This southern campaign seemed to leave Alex without much patience these days.

~/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/~

_Melanie's feet seemed to carry her effortlessly across the dew covered grass on the Prescott plantation. The farm, though quiet like this early in the morning, seemed unusually still now. Instead of the peaceful calm that Melanie loved most about her home, an oppressive silence hung over the place like the grey mist that lingered just above the ground._

_As she made her way through the fog, it lifted to reveal the estate and grounds to her. She looked about quietly, curious as to where everyone was and what tasks they undertook that kept them so silent. _

_Then, she saw her father. "Oh, my God!," she screamed. "Father, NO!" Melanie ran to where he lay awkwardly on the porch, and partially lodged in the door. She pulled his lifeless body into her arms as he bled and held him. "Father!" He did not respond._

_Tears rolled down her face as sobs wrenched her gut. The girl laid her father back down and turned away from him. It was then that she saw her brother, the Priest, sprawled on the sidewalk. _

_Miss Prescott trod to where the young man lay. "Matthew?" _

_She knelt down and shook him, softly at first, then harder. Just after Melanie turned him over, she gasped at the sight of the side of his head, which had been obliterated by a bullet. _

_Feeling sick to her stomach, the sorrow she felt over ruled her and made her bawl even harder._

_After a moment, fear gripped her, so she pulled herself to her feet. The girl looked about the lawn for her mother, her vision blurred by her tears. _

_"Mother," she called. "Mother? Where are you? Answer me, Mother!"_

_Knowing that she'd have to be strong and comfort the woman, Melanie stumbled into the house to look for her. Inwardly, the young lady desperately and selfishly wanted the security and comfort of her Mother's arms more than feeling the obligation to console the older woman._

_Once inside her home, Miss Prescott saw the ghastly site of her Mother's body, lying still in a pool of her own blood. Melanie stepped over to where she lay and fell to her knees._

_"Oh, no! MOTHER!", she shrieked. "No! God, NO! Not Mother, too!"_

_The young woman wrapped her arms about her dead mother's body and pulled her against her own. Melanie pressed her forehead to her mother's, weeping uncontrollably for the woman as she held her. _

_After lovingly placing her back on the floor, a tearful Melanie sat back on her knees, covering her face with her hands and crying into them. A moment later, she hugged her body with her own crossed arms, staring blankly ahead as she rocked absently back and forth. _

_Then in a flash, she remembered the little ones. "Jonathon? Josie?" she called out as she rose to her feet. Melanie was very worried about them. She had to find and protect them._

_"If you're hiding, it's alright! You can come out! We're safe now!" There was only silence._

_Miss Prescott went out the back door of the house, continuing her search. She ran up the road, shouting for them, her voice piercing the eerie stillness of the countryside. "Jonathon! Josie! Where are you!", she cried frantically._

_She kept on running, unsure of where she was going to. Suddenly, Melanie stumbled and fell. As she rolled over to get up, her eyes widened to see that she had tripped over the bodies of her youngest brother and sister. A horrid yell tore from her throat. Tears flooded her eyes as she touched each of their small forms. _

_Poor Miss Prescott curled her body into a ball on the grass. She held her aching middle, hurting and sickly from the powerful sobs, and cried pitifully at the devastating loss of her entire family. It was then that she realized that she was all alone, and she became very afraid._

_Then, Melanie whimpered as she felt her body yanked up off the ground. She screamed horribly as she felt a knife pierce her side, sending sickening, burning waves of pain throughout her body._

It was the middle of the night when Colonel Tavington slipped into his room where Miss Prescott lay sleeping. He had just returned from leading a patrol. He looked at the poor girl, still not well from her injuries of weeks before, and now, to compound the situation, having grief to work through. He sighed and shook his head quietly.

After a few moments, William looked up from his writing when he heard her stir. She muttered something incoherent. He smiled at her as she talked in her sleep. Will looked back down at his papers and read what he had just written. As he thought about what next to write, he heard the sleeping girl again.

At first, she groaned as if resisting something. Then, she began to whimper. After a moment of this, Miss Prescott started moving her arms and writhing in the bed. She gasped and cried terribly. Suddenly, her incoherent mutterings became clear as she cried out.

"Mother...Oh, God no!"

As she sobbed in her sleep even harder, a concerned Tavington rose from his desk and moved to her bedside. Melanie kept thrashing about all the while.

"Father!"

The Colonel reached the bed and saw that Miss Prescott's cheeks were wet with tears. He knew she was having a nightmare about her ordeal at the plantation.

"Mother!" she called out again. Now the girl wept even harder.

William sat down on the bed and gently grasped her shoulders. He shook her ever so lightly, enough to try to rouse her, but not enough to startle her.

"Shhhhhh...wake up. It's alright," he coaxed quietly. "It's only a dream. Shhhhhh."

After another gentle shake, Melanie jerked herself awake and sat straight up. She was whimpering a little still and panting. Disoriented, the young lady looked about the room first, then at Colonel Tavington.

The officer looked into her eyes, wanting to assure her. Knowing that she was frightened and confused, he spoke to her.

"It's alright, now," he soothed. "It was just a bad dream. You're safe."

Melanie quieted a bit, looked around the room again, then at William. She looked as if she was still trying to free herself from the bonds of a nightmarish sleep. Soon, her face cleared of its confusion as she recalled where she was, and that her family was dead.

Will stayed silent as she grasped for her bearings again. After that, he thought, he could talk with her or ask questions, if need be.

She said nothing as she continued to look about and tremble. Then, with no warning, her face contorted in anguish and she burst into tears. Lost and wanting comfort, she leaned forward slightly and buried her face in Tavington's shoulder.

The Colonel put his arms about her and held her as she wept. Although it was innocent and a gesture of comfort, he liked the feeling of her body against his. He quickly brushed that selfish thought out of his head, feeling that he was there to console her only.

The officer said nothing as he did. He felt badly for her, unable to imagine the depth of her sorrow, and hoping never to have to experience it on that level himself. His strong arms could not still her body as it shook against his, wracked with sobs.

"Why?" she sobbed. "Why me?"

William continued to keep silent, just letting her weep. Her tears flowed unabashed for yet another moment.

Then, as her crying slowed a bit, Melanie pulled in deep breaths as she still trembled slightly. Her throat hurt from all the weeping, and her eyes burned from the tears. Melanie's abdomen ached from the deep sobs that had wrenched her body only a minute before. The feeling of her mind and sorrow blending together, blurring distinction for a moment, made her head ache. The girl was exhausted.

As her sobs eased even more, she pulled back from Will's comforting embrace. Still sniffling, she laid back down in the bed and turned on to her stomach. She buried her face in the pillow for the moment.

Tavington listened to her muffled sobs as he looked down at her. He stroked her tussled blonde hair with his hand in a manner of comfort.

He laid his hand lightly on her back and rubbed it gently. He remembered his mother doing this for him when he was a child, and how much comfort it brought him as a little boy.

As she still lay on her front, Melanie turned her head to the side on her pillow, crying more softly now. William could tell that she was tired. He himself knew that nightmares could wear one out.

As her cries finally diminished, he watched her lay still for a moment. When she had been quiet another minute, he saw that her eyes were closed and her breathing had deepened and evened out. Will hoped that this would be a restful and merciful sleep.

Colonel Tavington pulled the covers up about her and padded quietly back over to his desk. He sat down and gazed at her sleeping form another moment before returning to his work. He wanted to stay there a while longer, in case she should wake up again in the throes of that same nightmare.

~/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/~

_"I am a virgin, William," she whispered. "I saved myself for you. I love you." _

_William sat on the edge of the bed in awe of the naked beauty in front of him. He was so taken aback that he could only stare silently at Melanie. Her body was so curvy and beautiful, and she stood in his room now smiling demurely at him. Will's heart and soul warmed inwardly that she had kept herself pure just for him._

_Looking back at her, desire deepened the hue of his eyes to a dark blue. Tavington stretched his arm out to where Melanie stood before him and offered his hand. She took it and he pulled her to him at the side of the bed. _

_He ran his fingertips up the sides of her body, then caressed her soft behind. His lips nuzzled her breasts, then Will's hungry mouth drew in one of her nipples to taste its sweetness. Melanie's head dropped backward with her long blonde tresses cascading down her bare back. She gasped at the feeling of his lips and tongue on her chest. _

_After another moment, Will pulled her down onto the bed with him and rolled her over beneath him in one swift move. His mouth took hers in a deep kiss. She responded back, relaxing under his touch and opening her lips to accept his tongue. _

_Tavington's warm mouth outlined her jaw with soft kisses, slowly making its way to her ear. He nibbled it causing her to coo and sigh. Then, his lips traced an invisible line to her neck, which he nuzzled gently, covering it with light kisses._

_"Oh... William...please...now," she urged in a voice overtaken by passion. "I want you now."_

_The officer complied and parted her legs with his own. He positioned himself between them then guided his stiff manhood to the wetness awaiting him. Will paused there for a moment to search her eyes. He saw love, desire, and trust there, all for him. _

_His lips met hers again in a passionate kiss. Melanie's fingers found their way up his body and snaked into his long, dark hair. _

_Her lips parted from his to look up at him and into his smoldering azure eyes. Her eyes begged for him. _

_"Will, please. Now," she pleaded. _

_William obeyed and entered her carefully. He watched her face cautiously as he did. Melanie closed her eyes and gasped as she felt the gentle invasion of her womanly virtue. _

_"Slowly, William," she beseeched. "Slowly."_

_As William eased himself in deeper, his hardness met a point of resistance. He looked into her eyes wordlessly showing her his love, then silently apologizing to her for the discomfort she would soon be feeling. Melanie smiled prettily back up at him, quietly forgiving him, knowing he had to do it. _

_With an insistent push, he broke through her virgin sheath and slid deeply into where no other man had ever been. Melanie groaned aloud as he destroyed the fragile shield and squeezed her eyes tightly shut. _

_Resting within her for a moment, William luxuriated in the feeling of her wet warmth and the taut, smooth walls which held his member firmly inside her. He caressed her breast with his right hand, then pinched and rolled the nipple. _

_When he felt her start to relax and her breathing slow and deepen, he eased himself up onto his forearms and elbows. Will then began to move himself within her. _

_As William's lips nuzzled her neck again, Melanie wrapped her arms about his body and held him close. _

_"Gently," she murmured in his ear. _

_The calm of the darkness in Will's room was soon filled with their lover's moans and gasps. Melanie sighed and cooed, arching her back against the bed and into him as a relaxing warmth saturated her body and being._

_William continued to coax her with gentle, steady strokes deep inside her, feeling as though he was bringing Melanie close to her pleasure. Their eager mouths soon found one another's again, lips and tongues clasping the other's furiously and deeply._

_After another moment, Will quickened his pace, panting as he did. Soon, he felt Melanie's womanhood tighten around his erection and her body become rigid. Her breathing was labored and she clung tightly to his body. In a heartbeat, she came, crying his name as she did. _

_"William! Oh...ah...mmmm...William!"_

_He could hold back no longer as he felt her tight, virgin walls squeeze his hardness and heard her cries of passion for him. Will let loose inside her, releasing his seed within as he called her name. _

_"Melanie! Oh God!"_

Colonel Tavington's body jerked violently, waking him up from his beautiful reverie. He sat up from a dream that had been so real, only to find himself alone in his bed—and aroused.

A frustrated and panting Will laid back down on his bed. Tavington closed his eyes again, thinking about the vivid dream he'd just had; seeing and feeling Miss Prescott's body below his in his bed. Needing release, he put his hand on his stiff and aching member and tightened his fist around it. As he moved up and down the length of it urgently, William quickly coaxed himself to the edge of frenzy. Instantly, he came with force as his seed flowed onto his belly.

William relaxed on his back for a moment until his breathing and body calmed. Then, he reached for his handkerchief on the nightstand and wiped his abdomen clean.

Rolling over onto his side, Will pulled the covers back up around him and relaxed into his pillow. His mind raced as he tried to fall asleep.

Tavington admitted to himself that he was attracted to Miss Prescott. He thought her very pretty, and liked her even though he had not spent much time with her outside of helping her during her recovery. But, he knew he could not act on his desire.

Admonishing himself for his infatuation with her, he used logic to try to cool his developing feelings for her. Remembering his duty as an officer, he knew that he could not act on his emotions. It was against decorum to have relations with her.

The Colonel knew that many of his own Dragoons did not conform to propriety. He was aware of instances where his men took advantage of female prisoners they had captured, or even wards under their protection. Tavington, and Bordon for that matter, often turned a blind eye to the activity, as long as it was kept discreet and did not get out of hand. Yet, William held himself above this behavior knowing it could cost him his commission. He had worked too long and hard, and would not risk it for a ward of the British. If he needed sexual pleasure, there were plenty of whores, camp followers, British and Loyalist women who were attracted to him and his bed.

So, at least for the moment, William would not act on his feelings for Miss Prescott. It was probably just a passing fancy, anyway. But, maybe if they could put an end to this war soon, he conceded that he might pursue her then.


	7. Chapter 7 Deception And Escape

Chapter 7 Deception And Escape

For a month after Melanie Prescott was informed of her family's terrible demise, she continued to grieve, but kept regaining her physical strength with each of those grief stricken days. Though she walked the lonely path of mourning by herself, she had been helped along the trail of recovery by the concerned officers and staff of the fort. At the end of these four weeks, the initial pain and shock that comes with grief started to ease, and Melanie began to accept that her family was gone.

Although Miss Prescott was still in the doldrums of grief, she wanted to break the monotony of her mourning. So, she decided to venture outside of the main house.

Melanie had been walking on her own for a few days. Most of the pain from her injuries was gone, although sometimes she still felt dull aches from them. She still tired easily, so she had to pace herself as she walked and watch that she would not overdo it. The doctor assured her that her stamina would return in a little while.

There was no resistance from the guards at the entrance to the main house, knowing that Miss Prescott was a guest there. She sauntered out of the house and into the courtyard area of the fort at a slow and leisurely pace. Walking along without a goal or purpose, just the action of this made her feel better. Just to be outdoors in the early spring seemed to help her recovery.

After a few moments at a steady pace, Melanie stopped for a moment to sit on a bench and rest. As she looked to her left, she noticed the tents and huts of the Colonial and Rebel Prisoner's Compound, an area attached to the back of the fort. She decided to explore this area.

Melanie rose to her feet and trekked gently toward the area. Walking through the gates, there was a myriad of activity going on. As she looked about her, she saw a site that her eyes had not seen in a while: ordinary, everyday life.

Amazed at it all, had she not known it was a prison camp, she would have thought she were in some village near her home. There were children of all ages; some were playing, some were helping with chores. Women were washing, sewing and mending clothes. Some of the captives were writing in journals, while others sat and read. The men, some in civilian clothing and some in tattered Colonial uniforms, were painting or fixing the buildings. All this made Melanie smile, seeing that life went on for these people within captivity and war.

However, lurking nearby around the side of a hut, a man watched Melanie from a distance as she walked about. The man, Michael Gladsen, a captured rebel, was middle aged, and knew who Melanie was. He turned back to look for two of his companions. He spotted one of them, John Blevins.

"John, look!" he said in an anxious and low voice. He waved at John, trying to get his attention.

John Blevins saw his older friend Michael motioning to him. He walked from where he stood next to a lady who had been mending, and joined Gladsen. Both men looked the direction in which Michael pointed, which was at Melanie, who was across the compound, still walking slowly along.

"Well, I'll be damned," Blevins exclaimed. "I thought she was dead."

As the two men stood, intently watching Miss Prescott, a third man, even younger than these two, walked up and joined them. He was curious to see what they were looking at.

"Hey Ryan," began John, "there's Hayden Prescott's daughter." He nodded his head toward her.

Ryan Addison, the youngest of these three rebels, kept calm and cool, hardly registering any outward emotion about it. He was amazed nonetheless.

"I thought we got all of them?" he asked in a smug, arrogant voice.

"Well, either she hid well," Michael stated, "or she lived."

"No. She wasn't hiding," John assured. "I stabbed her myself. Right as those Redcoat Dragoon bastards were riding in!"

The three men conversing there and watching Miss Prescott were part of the group of rebel zealots that attacked and massacred the Prescott family on that fateful day. The three of them had managed to escape that day while two of their compatriots hadn't fared as lucky. They later heard that the two that had been captured were hanged there at the fort.

John Blevins, Ryan Addison, and Michael Gladsen, were lucky enough to avoid capture that day, but were apprehended weeks later when a larger rebel camp they were staying in had been raided. So far, these three had been able to elude identification as being among the group that had murdered the Prescotts. The British thought them just more rebel militiamen.

As these three rebels watched her, apprehension swirled about all of their minds. They weren't sure how much she remembered of the attack. They had no idea if she may have seen any of them from a window in the house. They wondered if she could recall the face of the man that stabbed her. All of them were afraid of what might happen to them if they were identified.

"I'd hate for her to identify us," Michael said in a lowered voice.

"Me too," young Ryan agreed.

"But what can we do?" asked John Blevins. "We're prisoners. We've no weapons."

"What if we could get word to someone outside the fort through one of the contacts," Ryan speculated. "Maybe someone could capture her—or kill her."

The three men stood quietly as they thought more. They felt they had to come up with an answer, lest they be identified.

"I've got it!," exclaimed Gladsen. "Follow me."

The oldest of the three rebels led the way. The two younger men followed him a few feet behind, saying nothing, just watching. They stayed discreet and in control as they followed Michael, who made his way across the compound toward Melanie.

Michael Gladsen spoke as he neared the girl, who was unaware that they had been watching her. "Miss Prescott," he called out to her. "You're Hayden Prescott's daughter, aren't you?" His voice exuded innocence, surprise, and a little sly charm.

Melanie turned toward the voice. At first, she was amazed that anyone knew who she was. Then, she remembered that she was in the compound for Colonial prisoners. Melanie thought then that it was probably someone from the town, or perhaps a neighbor that had been captured and brought here. It was surely someone she knew.

"Yes?" she answered. She studied the face of the man, in his mid 40's, and the faces of the two that followed him, one of them in his 30's, and the other young, probably early 20's. Melanie was irritated with herself for not being able to recognize them or recall a face. But she tried to calm herself as she remembered the doctor telling her that she may have some memory loss of not only the traumatic event, but sporadic memories of things that happened and people she may have met shortly before the massacre. Maybe she had met these men before the attack at the plantation, but just couldn't remember them.

As the men approached her, she forced a smile. Feeling awkward, she apologized. "I'm sorry, sir. I'm not very good at remembering names. Have we met before?"

"Yes," he answered. "I knew your father." He slyly avoided giving his name, steering her purposely toward the subject of her father.

Melanie managed a smile and steeled herself, holding back tears. She answered the man flatly, no longer trying to recognize him. "You did?"

"Yes. I worked with him for a time."

Melanie was suddenly puzzled. If the man was a pacifist, then why would he be a prisoner in a Colonial Rebel prison camp, she asked herself.

"Why are you here in the prison camp? I mean, you were obviously a pacifist," she pointed out.

"Well," Michael began,"I joined up with the rebels after a time. I just didn't have the patience and hope with pacifism that your father had."

"Oh," she replied with a nod of her head, sounding a little disappointed.

Michael reached out and took her hand, leaving her a little confused. "It's good to see you alive, Miss! I thought you were dead." He played the role of the concerned neighbor very well.

"Dead?" asked Melanie, still confused.

"Yeah," answered the older rebel. "I heard rumors that you died."

"I...I nearly did," she stammered. "The British cavalry found me alive and brought me here. They saved my life."

"Found you? What happened?" asked Michael in mock surprise. He needed to hear the details from her end of what the British did, trying to gauge their situation.

"Well, rebel extremists attacked our home. My entire family was killed." Melanie swallowed hard to compose herself. She knew she'd have to face people and talk of this the rest of her life.

The two younger rebels with Gladsen had been silent, watching as the older man drew answers out of Miss Prescott. They watched and waited carefully, knowing he'd cue them indiscreetly was to when to join in the conversation.

Gladsen shot Melanie a puzzled look. "Are you sure? You're sure they're dead?"

"Yes," Melanie assured him with a nod of her head. "The officers told me they were. Why?"

"I'd heard they were captured and taken to a prison camp," lied Gladsen confidently.

At this point, Blevins and Addison joined in. The youngest of the three, Addison, spoke up first. "I haven't heard anything. I didn't know that anything had happened with your family."

Gladsen, in a roundabout way, introduced his two companions to Miss Prescott. "Oh, Miss, the three of us were in the same militia unit together, but captured at different times. These two know who your father is, as well." He was very careful to use the present tense when talking of Hayden Prescott, to keep her confused as to what to believe.

The rebel in his thirties, John Blevins, entered the conversation now. He turned to Michael, playing along with the ruse, and gave the older man a bewildered look. "Captured? Dead? Are both of you sure of either of that? I was just fighting alongside a man last week who knew your family. He mentioned that he'd been given an assignment to survey the area around your plantation for Redcoats possibly hiding in the area. He made the comment that Redcoats were camping on your plantation, but that your family was still alive. He saw them there."

"Truly," she asked incredulously. "He did?" Melanie was confused, but happy, for she felt a perplexed hope within herself.

"Yes Miss!" assured Blevins.

Michael Gladsen took over again in the scheme. "Are you absolutely sure that rebel extremists are the one who massacred your family?"

"The officers said as much," she said, a mystified look on her face.

"Maybe they said that to cover up the truth. Maybe _they're_ the ones who did it! Maybe _they_ tried to kill you."

Melanie was aghast. She protested in disbelief. "But that can't be! They saved my life by bringing me here to the fort. They've taken care of me. The officers have been nothing less than gentlemen toward me."

"Oh, Miss," Addison began, "Haven't you heard what they call the officers?"

She shook her head no silently, too surprised to talk.

Blevins answered. "They call Colonel Tarleton 'Bloody Ban'. Tavington is 'the Butcher', and the Major who does the interrogations is known as 'Brutal Bordon.'" This part the men did not make up for these names had been given to the men by the populace of the area.

"Your family has not come to see you at all?" Gladsen asked.

"No. I've not heard anything from them," she replied.

"Maybe that's because the Redcoats are keeping them under lock and key at your farm," Addison pointed out.

The three men were now surrounding her, making her head spin with hope and accusations against her British rescuers. She wasn't sure what to think. Melanie tried to take in everything they said and sort it all out. She felt that these men were concerned and trying to be helpful. After all, they knew her father and his reputation.

John Blevins spoke again. "Miss Prescott, these officers protecting you and helping you recover could be a sly act. They might want something more," he remarked. "They have been burning houses, looting, killing men without cause, murdering innocent women and children, kidnapping of the same, and raping Colonial and their own Loyalist women all over the countryside!"

Melanie was now drowning in confusion. She just wanted the truth. "But...I...but...well...I thought—"

Michael Gladsen, the ringleader of these rebels, cut off her stammering mid sentence. "Girl, heed closely what I have to say. I understand that you may feel a sort of loyalty to the men who saved your life. But don't trust these Redcoats. They have been known to lie—especially to Colonials. They also start false rumors in order to misdirect people. Have you been given proof that your family perished?"

"No. Just their word," she answered in a dejected voice. She wasn't sure whom she could trust now.

"Their word can't be trusted."

Melanie argued with them again. "I don't understand. I am a pacifist, same as my father. That is well known about my family. The British rescued me. What reason do they have to lie to me?"

"Maybe to keep you from your family and home," said Addison.

"Maybe you're a hostage and they're using your captivity to blackmail your father into using his influence for the English cause," Blevins pointed out.

"Or maybe they're going to use you for more sinister...or lewd...purposes," Michael Gladsen chimed in, his words slow in an ominous tone.

Melanie's eyes widened in panic.

The three men rejoiced silently inside as they all knew they had succeeded in confusing and scaring the girl. They now found out as well, that she had no memory of the dreaded event. They were happiest of all that she did not recognize them as being among the attackers.

Michael put his arm on her elbow gently and pulled her over closer to a building. Ryan and John, the younger rebels, followed. They all gathered in closely to her now. Michael looked around, obviously trying to show that he had something very secret to tell her.

Her eyes still rounded, Melanie shuddered at the action of him pulling her aside. She assumed he must have something dreadful to tell her. She blocked out the sounds of the prison camp around her, wanting to hear his voice.

"Miss Prescott, I am afraid for you girl," Michael imparted. "Maybe you should get away from here."

"But the Colonel said that I am in danger outside the fort," she whispered.

He shook his head. "I believe you to be in danger _inside_ the fort," he disagreed.

Melanie still wasn't sure whether to believe the rebel's fears. "But they have me here to protect me—"

"Yeah, protect you for themselves, bloody likely!" Addison spat sarcastically.

Gladsen sighed, then continued. His eyes implored the girl to listen to him. "If I were you, I'd try to leave here and get back to your home to see just what the situation is. Then, at least you will find out for yourself."

Melanie nodded a confused acknowledgement. "Thank you," she murmured. With her head spinning at the new revelations, she started to walk away.

Michael Gladsen caught her hand again, stopping her. He pulled her back into the little group again and imparted a last warning. "Don't trust anything they tell you unless you see it with your own eyes."

Nodding silently again, Melanie Prescott strode back toward the gate into the main fort yard, in awe of what was said, and still trying to straighten it all out within her own mind.

~/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/~

Melanie Prescott rose early the next morning after a nearly sleepless night. After mulling over what the three rebel prisoners had told her, she came to a decision last evening to leave the fort. Nerves over her early morning 'escape' attempt had robbed her of any restful sleep. Though anxious, the girl was excited and elated at the thought of reuniting with her family.

At 4:30am, Miss Prescott stuffed pillows into her bed under the covers, then left her room. She stole down to the kitchen building through the silence of the main house.

Once there, she spied a basket, which she picked up. Hanging on a hook was a mob cap. Melanie put it on, stuffing her long, blonde locks beneath it. As she adjusted the hat, she saw an apron folded up neatly on the counter. She slipped it on and tied it. Pulling the cap down a little lower on her head, she left the room dressed in the apron and carrying the basket. Miss Prescott hoped she could pass as one of the house servants.

She slipped out the back door and slinked around the corner of the main house. Quietly, the young woman inched toward the front, where she would soon be in view of the main gate.

Pausing there for a moment, Miss Prescott watched the activity at the gate, which was minimal this time of morning. She took a couple of deep breaths to calm her nerves, reminding herself of something she'd heard in conversation. It had been mentioned that the overnight sentry duty was often assigned to the younger and newest soldiers. The older soldiers with more seniority were sometimes given a choice of duty, when possible. Melanie had also learned that the less experienced, younger soldiers manning the gate were more lenient and gullible. She could use their inexperience and her own cunning as her way out of the fort.

With one last breath she summoned her courage. Melanie Prescott sauntered confidently up to the fort gate, swinging her basket. It appeared that she had not a care in the world.

The boyish sentry approached her. "Halt!" He positioned himself between her and the gate, preventing her from advancing any farther.

Melanie had been around as many English people as she had native Colonials while growing up. Lately, during her sojourn at the fort, she'd heard mostly English accented voices. She spoke now in one.

"You're new here, aren't you?", she asked, trying to throw him off guard. Melanie affected a perfect British accent.

"Yes, Miss," he replied with a smile. "Only arrived two days ago."

"Oh," she acknowledged. The young lady smiled prettily at him.

The soldier remembered himself and straightened up. "What's your business?"

"I need to gather berries for breakfast, and fresh flowers for the officer's table."

"Might early for that, isn't it? The sun is not up yet."

"Someone has to get up early to start the breakfast," she goaded. "I could sleep no longer, so I decided to go ahead and start things."

"Oh, I see," said the sentry. "But, you can't go out there without an escort. There could be rebels hiding in the woods."

"Sometimes we go out unaccompanied, if no one is available," Melanie lied. "We have to. You don't really think the officers will want to wait on their breakfast until I can find an escort, do you?"

The young sentry chuckled and rolled his eyes. Even though he was new to Fort Carolina, he'd been in the war just long enough to realize that some of the officers were more irritable these days than usual. After all, they were in the midst of a war.

"No," he answered.

Melanie grinned. "I didn't think you'd want them to go without their morning meal. Private, I am only going to the woods there, just after the clearing. The rebels wouldn't dare to come this close to the fort. They know that there is a regular patrol sweeping the perimeter. Besides, I'll call for you if I need help."

Her tone of voice, her eyes, her motions, all the time she spoke to the young man, she was charming him with innocence. She paused, then continued. "You'd come to my rescue, wouldn't you?", she flirted.

"Yes, Miss, I would," he assured. The soldier then stepped aside and motioned her through the gate. He opened it for her and said, "Alright. Pass."

She thanked him with a smile and a bob of her head. With that, Melanie Prescott strolled through the open gate and out of Fort Carolina.

Suddenly, the Private called back for her, stopping her dead in her tracks, a frown across her face. Melanie drew in a breath, fixed a girlish smile upon her lips, then turned back to look at the young man.

"Be careful, Miss," he warned. "Listen, look, and be aware of everything around you."

"I will, Private," she replied graciously. "Thank you."

She turned back toward the woods. Melanie could barely contain her excitement as she walked across the open grass just outside the fort. As she trekked toward the forest, she thought about the task that lay ahead of her and how to go about it. She knew that she would have to cover as much ground as possible and make good time quickly. After sun up, which was only an hour or so away, horse, wagon, and foot traffic would pick up on the dirt roads. There was the risk that she could be stopped or even identified.

After another moment of traipsing along and reasoning with herself, Miss Prescott soon found herself at the tree line. She followed the edge of it for just a few steps, then saw an opening in the thicket. Melanie stepped onto the path, then slid into the woods.

As the first rays of dawn pierced the foliage, she raced along as fast as she could until she came to a clearing. She spotted a road just in front of her. Tired, she stopped just within the edge of the forest, knowing that she still wasn't well enough to run steadily. She would have to pace herself slowly.

Melanie hugged the tree line as she followed the road, noting the path openings into the woods as she passed them. Suddenly, she heard horses in the distance. Then, she recognized the voice calling out instructions. It was that of Major Hanger, whom she knew to be Banastre Tarleton's second in command. This was the night patrol of Dragoons obviously headed around, or back to the fort.

The girl darted back into the woods, crouching low in some bushes until the unit passed her. She stayed hidden a few more minutes yet after that, in case they looked back behind them, came back, or if there were stragglers behind the group.

When the road was clear, she continued on. Miss Prescott pushed herself, but her body protested, so she had to slow even more.

More moments passed before she heard something: a wagon. British or Colonial wagons were usually in convoys and escorted by horse or infantry. This was a single wagon. As she listened intently, she heard a man and woman talking to each other. The accents were distinctly Carolinian, not British. Having no fear as this was most likely a local family, she stayed on the road and trekked ahead.

Without looking back, she could hear the wagon bearing down on her. A minute later, the wagon overtook her.

The driver stopped the wagon just in front of her. "Whoa!" Then, he looked back at the young woman. "You there! Oh Miss!"

"Yes," answered Melanie, stopping near the wagon.

"You from around here," he asked her.

"Not too far," she replied.

"Get on up here in the wagon, girl, and ride with us. I shudder to think what would happen if you were picked up by either army!"

Melanie's old injuries plagued her, making her sore and tired already. She kindly accepted the offer. The man helped her into the wagon.

He introduced himself as he climbed back up into the driver's seat. "I'm Josiah Bentley." He then motioned to the passengers. "This is Mrs. Bentley, and those two rascals back there are our children."

"I'm Grace Browning," she lied. Melanie wanted to take no chances of anyone recognizing her, or even her family's name. They were too well known in the colonies.

Mr. Bentley coaxed the mules on as Melanie situated herself in the back of the wagon by the kids. He continued on with polite conversation.

"Might I ask what you are doing out here alone, Miss Browning?"

Melanie had already come up with a cover story, just in case. She began spinning her deception.

"I had volunteered awhile back to go down South of here to help in the surgery tents. Yesterday and last night, we were making our way back to Winnsboro, taking the wounded to the hospital there. I stopped to comfort one of the dying soldiers. He was bad, and I knew he didn't have long. I pitied him and didn't want him to die on the way, so, I stayed with him until he passed on. I had told the group to go on without me, thinking he would pass in a matter of moments, and I'd catch up to them. Well, the poor boy hung on in pain awhile, then died. By that time, the caravan was well ahead of me and out of sight. I haven't been able to find them. So, I just went on alone, knowing if I kept to the road that I'd hit a village sooner or later."

"They probably left you behind, scared to death of all the Redcoats in the area. Why, we were stopped by that notorious British cavalry before we found you."

Melanie shivered. It was most likely Tarleton's Dragoons that had stopped him. "Yes," she said, "I saw them and hid."

She then changed the subject. "Where are you heading?"

"We're going northwest or so, into the Kentucky territory. We're going to ride out the rest of the war there. We don't feel safe here, anymore. The battles and skirmishes have been getting too close to our house and farm. Plus, there have been a lot of British in this area. Some of the things we've heard about them, especially the Green Dragoons, have frightened us."

Melanie was quiet for a moment, leaving a lull in the conversation. She remembered what the three militiamen at Fort Carolina had called Tavington, Bordon, and Tarleton, their nicknames and reputations. Yet, these same men had rescued her and even sat with her as she recovered.

Bentley went on. "With me hobbled like this, I can't defend my family or fight for my country. I have a brother who lives there in Kentucky, and he writes that there is no fighting up there—mostly Indians and vast wilderness. Very peaceful, he says."

The man turned back as he coaxed the mules on, to look at her. "Where are you going, missy?"

"Well, I was going to ask how close we are to Cascadia?"

"Not too far," he replied. "In fact, we're going to go right through it."

"Sir, if it's not an imposition, would you please drop me off at my family's farm," she requested. "It is well before you get into the town."

"No inconvenience at all," he answered jovially. "We're just glad you're not on the road alone."


	8. Chapter 8 The Truth At Home

Chapter 8 The Truth At Home

After riding for a couple of hours, Melanie looked about and noticed familiar countryside. She smiled, knowing she was close to home. But, they were soon stopped by British infantry approaching on the road. All the occupants of the wagon were made to get out. Melanie was content to let the kindly gentleman Bentley do the talking as the wagon was searched for contraband.

Melanie, still dressed in her mob cap and apron looked every bit the part of a servant girl. She noticed the soldiers searching the wagon and she thought they actually seemed happy not to have found anything. To her, they looked weary and were probably glad they didn't have to expend any extra effort to confiscate anything illegal or take this family into custody. She was happy not to have to go back into it, as well.

Miss Prescott continued to stay quiet as she stood beside the carriage. Not wanting to call attention to herself, she acted shy and retiring. One of the Redcoat soldiers tried to flirt with girl innocently and shyly rejected his attempts at introduction.

Mr. Bentley was made to show the letters from his brother about joining him in the Kentucky Territory. After a few more minutes, once the soldiers were satisfied they were just another family fleeing the war torn area, they were let go to get on with the trip.

A little while later, the wagon made a turn onto a road which Melanie recognized. Her heart began to race as she picked out the boulders and trees that marked the entry to Prescott Plantation.

At the end of the long lane which led to the house, which could not be seen from this point as it was obscured by woods, Miss Prescott climbed down from the wagon. She thanked the driver graciously and bid the Bentley family farewell. She turned to walk up the driveway as the carriage drove away.

Melanie had walked the tree and field lined lane many times before when growing up. She intended to once again enjoy making this trek to her house.

Savoring her walk up to the house, she knew she was almost in view of seeing her beloved home. She had only to round the bend in the road, which had a patch of woods to the left, obscuring the view of the house and barns still. Melanie raced, knowing that when she cleared this, she could see the house. But, hearing noise, she stopped in her tracks just short of passing the woods and still out of sight of the house.

As Melanie listened, trying to discern what she heard, she was glad to be hearing anything. It was a good sign to her, feeling that at least the place had not been burned down. Cautiously, she crept forward to clear the woods, curious to see what was going on.

Finally, the house and barns came into full view. It was rife with activity; much different than the peaceful plantation she remembered. Despite the noise and humanity, Melanie took a breath, sighing in relief to be home.

There were white canvas tents all over the grass for as far as the eye could see. Horses, wagons, and a mass of humanity were everywhere. She saw men, women, and children. And, what looked like hundreds of Redcoats.

The three rebels at Fort Carolina had been right! The Redcoats had moved in and had taken over her family's plantation.

Standing still another moment, she strained to catch a glimpse of any of her family members. When she saw no one she recognized, she decided to move into the crowd. After all, she'd passed as a house servant at the fort, certainly she'd blend well with the camp women.

Melanie inhaled deeply to calm her nerves, let her breath out slowly, and headed toward the tent city. She held her head high, put a smile on her face, and strolled confidently amidst the tents, swinging her basket.

In and around the tents, she saw women sewing and washing clothes. Others were cooking. Her eyes widened as she saw a whore leading a soldier into her tent. Some of the children played amidst the canvas homes, while others helped the adults. Some of the little ones drew and carried water. She could see large tents to her far left, which she thought were probably hospital tents.

Miss Prescott veered to the right and ducked under a clothes line full of damp garments. Ahead of her lie the barns and outbuildings, bustling with activity.

She continued to seek a familiar face, peering into each barn, hut, and shed that she passed. No one noticed her, for to her relief, she did indeed look like just another camp follower.

At the stable, she finally saw someone she knew. Melanie smiled when she saw Mr. Barnes, the head farm hand. She regretted not having the chance to speak to him, for he was being berated by an irritated British officer. The young lady grinned at the sight and moved on.

Melanie surmised that her family must be locked inside the house somewhere. As she moved toward it, she saw two ladies leaving it through the back door. They were removing their aprons.

_Good, she thought. Breakfast is over. The house should be empty and quiet now._

The girl made her way into the cellar first, just under the house. She was surprised to find that her father's vast store of wine had virtually been cleaned out. _The officers are obviously enjoying the fine wines, she thought._

"Mother? Father?" she called softly, looking for them. She spoke again and heard only silence. Soon, she moved back up the stairs and out of the coolness of the place.

Now in the house, Melanie moved in and out of the rooms on the first floor. She noticed that her father's study had been made into a bedroom, probably for an officer, she guessed. The other rooms had been left much the same as they were when she lived there months ago.

She saw that the paintings, decorations, and other valuables had also been left alone in each room. Miss Prescott was grateful and satisfied that the British had not looted the house and had treated things with respect.

After having looked about the first floor, Melanie found herself back in the dining room of an essentially quiet house. She reached out and touched her mother's fine china, which was stacked up on the table. It was obviously being used for the officer's meals. As she peered through the doorway into the kitchen, she saw a woman cutting vegetables. This made Miss Prescott wonder what time it was, suspecting that it was most likely mid morning, between the meals.

Since Melanie didn't see her family, she suspected that maybe they were locked up in one of the bedrooms upstairs. She spied a pile of shirts haphazardly folded by the doorway into the kitchen. Picking them up, she carried them with her lest she run into someone who questioned why she was there.

Once upstairs, she padded softly down the hallway, peaking her head into the open doorways of each bedroom. She knocked and turned the door knobs as quietly as possible on the closed doors.

"Mama? Father?" she whispered into each room, listening quietly for an answer. As she neared the last of the bedrooms, she started to wonder where else the family could be.

At that room, Melanie's heart beat faster and she grinned when she heard drawers opening within it. She hurriedly stuck her head in the door and was caught off guard by the sight of a British officer within!

She jumped slightly, then composed herself instantly. The man looked irritated as he rummaged through the bureau drawers, as if he'd lost something.

"Oh, I'm sorry sir," she apologized and curtsied to the gentleman. "I didn't realize anyone was in here."

"It's alright, girl," the officer replied in a friendly manner. He didn't give her a second look. Her English accent and servant outfit had fooled him.

She continued to play at her disguise. "Do you have anything for the laundry or mending?" she asked. She held out her arms displaying the garments she carried.

The man shot her a funny look. "Someone's already been round to collect the laundry," he stated.

"They have?" Melanie questioned, feigning innocence. "Oh. I didn't know. But I can take more if you have anything else." She smiled.

"I don't, but you might check in Captain Waring's room down the hall. I heard him say that he'd ripped one of his shirts just this morning."

She bowed her head with a smile and curtsied again. "I will. Thank you sir."

~/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/~

"I think I know where she may be," William thought as he recalled the exact words he said to Cornwallis earlier that morning. The General had been awakened immediately when it was found that Melanie Prescott had vanished.

Colonel Tavington and Major Bordon led a small patrol across the countryside to find the missing girl. They rode quickly, searching the woods and fields along the route to Cascadia. In only a few hours, they came upon the lane leading up to the Prescott Plantation and scampered furiously up it toward the house.

The Green Dragoons cut a menacing figure through the morning air as they rode up the grass toward the main house and tents. An officer, suited in Redcoat infantry finery, walked to meet the approaching horsemen. Will Tavington raised his arm to signal a halt.

"Captain," he acknowledged with a bob of his head. "I'm Lieutenant Colonel Tavington, Green Dragoons. We're looking for a young lady that went missing from Fort Carolina early this morning. We have reason to believe she may be here."

"Look about as you please, sir," the Captain replied while looking up at the cavalry commander.

Alex Bordon began to dismount, dispensing orders to the men in the group as he did. "Keep it discreet men," he instructed, "we don't want to scare her away."

The Major watched as the men dispersed into several directions. He took off his helmet as his superior dismounted his horse. Tavington and Bordon had thought it a good idea to keep the search of a lower profile, afraid they might flush Miss Prescott further into hiding. They surmised that if she was here, she must know the land around the area well and have knowledge of all its hiding spots.

The two commanders worried because Miss Prescott still wasn't altogether healed from the ambush a few months ago, hoping that her little jaunt out of the fort hadn't weakened her into a relapse. They also had dread that she may have fallen into rebel hands along the way. They could have killed her, or she may be sharing information she knew of the fort with them, if they offered the right price. After all, she may have been a pacifist's daughter, but she was now an orphan—a colonial one at that. And, if she was desperate enough to get free from British hands, she might consider any offer of help. Even though they had saved her life, they still didn't know her as a person that well. And she was a Colonial. They were weary to give trust to any Colonial. The two officers only hoped they could find her amidst the clamor of the camp.

Major Bordon heard Colonel Tavington swear under his breath as the commander removed his helmet. "Damned foolish girl!"

Alex grinned at the Colonel's exasperated remark, then laughed to himself. He agreed completely.

~/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/~

Inside the house, Melanie made her way down the stairs and back outside. Unsuccessful at locating her family within, she reasoned that they must be holed up in one of the tents or barns.

As she looked about the barns and tents, she was oblivious that the Green Dragoons had arrived and were looking for her. The soldiers kept the search discreet all the while that she looked about for her family.

Melanie realized that she was still absentmindedly carrying the clothes she picked up from the house. After remembering the garments within her arms, she checked the last outbuilding for a sign of her relatives.

Just as Miss Prescott peeked into the structure, a young Dragoon strolled past her. He looked at the girl. Seeing her from the side with her mob cap and apron on with a pile of laundry in her arms, he dismissed her as a camp follower. The soldier walked on ahead.

After he'd passed, Melanie stepped back out of the barn, not knowing that one of Tavington's men had just passed by her. Although she had thought earlier that there would be a search for her, her own hunt for her family had left her complacent. Finding them now was the most important thing on her mind; remembering to hide from her own hunters was overshadowed.

Melanie crossed the open pathway and entered the sizeable tent area. It was bustling with noise and activity. She made her way between some tents and popped out into the main aisle way between them. As she strode the path, she looked back and forth from one tent to the other for her parents. She'd try to peer into open tent flaps when she could, thinking they might be confined to cots. The girl could think of a sly way to get into the closed tents later, if need be.

A few moments later as she walked along, Melanie became absorbed in her thoughts. She mused about where else the family could be and how she'd find them. In fact, Miss Prescott was so consumed by this that she meandered aimlessly for just a minute, unaware for the moment of what was going on around her. As she did, she never even noticed the Dragoon walking toward her.

The cavalryman looked straight at the pretty young woman, strolling about opposite him. He walked on, thinking her merely a servant girl. Melanie's simple, yet clever disguise fooled yet another person.

Another moment passed and Melanie snapped out of her reverie. She found herself at the end of a tent row near the house. The camp laundry was right before her. The young lady set the garments slung across her arms down next to another pile and looked around. As her eyes lifted, she spied the hospital tents.

Miss Prescott hurriedly marched to the makeshift hospital, figuring that her family could be in there. Knowing them and their compassion, she surmised they'd want to help wherever they could.

Arriving at the tent door, Melanie stepped through the flap and into the hospital. The cots were full. This was the recovery tent. Through the open flap at the back of the tent, she could see surgeries being performed in the tent directly behind this one.

She wandered through the tent, which was calm, looking about for her family. Her head moved from side to side, gazing at each cot, hoping to see a parent or sibling standing there between them.

"Yes, this one's gone," Melanie heard a man's voice remark. She looked to her right and saw a doctor and a medic next to a bed. "Take him outside for burial."

She watched, then quickly snapped her head back the other way as the surgeon pulled the sheet up over the dead soldier. An instant later, she heard the men picking the dead man up and carrying him out.

As they did, Melanie heard a soft voice to her left. "Miss," a male voice called faintly. "Oh, Miss?"

The young woman moved toward the voice. On a cot, she saw an older soldier struggling to lift his head. "Miss?"

She rushed to his side. "Yes, sir?"

"Might I have a sip of water, please?"

"Yes," she answered compassionately. "I'll get it for you."

She looked up and spied a water pitcher on a table near the edge of the tent. The girl went to it and filled a glass, pouring the pitcher dry. She then ambled back over to the cot.

Just as Melanie pulled a stool to the bed, a large Dragoon private entered the tent at the opposite end. He swaggered slowly through the tent, glancing across the aisle, back and forth at each cot. He drew near to where Miss Prescott stood.

"Here sir," said Melanie as she slipped her hand behind his neck and gently lifted his head. As she put the glass to his lips, she coaxed, "Slowly so that you don't choke."

The cavalry private heard the sweet, English-accented voice and turned his head toward the sound of it. Stopping at the foot of the cot, he saw a nurse helping one of his injured countrymen. He viewed the man drinking the water, and saw the mob capped head of his nurse, who was looking down at her patient, intently tending to him. Her face was obscured from the sight of the dragoon as the girl gently encouraged the sick man to drink.

The soldier quickly moved on, not knowing she was the lady he sought, Miss Prescott. He then exited the tent through the back flap.

Melanie had heard someone walking through the tent, then leaving it, but didn't turn her head quickly enough to see who it was. When she looked back at her patient, his water glass was empty. She pulled the sheet up to his neck to cover him. "Rest now," she instructed. He thanked her weakly.

As she returned the glass to the table, she remembered that she'd used the last of the water. Wishing to replace it, she walked out the back of the tent. As she refilled the pitcher with water from a nearby bucket, she had a thought.

_Maybe my family doesn't recognize me with this disguise, she wondered. If I take off the cap and apron, then they might see me better as I walk through the camp._

Miss Prescott went back into the tent and placed the full water pitcher back on the table. She took a quick look at the soldier she'd just attended. He was breathing deeply and already asleep. With that, Melanie took off her mob cap, shaking her blonde hair free of it. She then slipped the apron off. Both items she folded neatly into small squares and placed them in the basket she still carried. As she finger combed her hair to make it neat, she strolled out of the tent, confident her family would see and recognize her now.

Once outside the medical tent, Melanie stood for a moment as she tried to decide where next to continue her search. She turned to the right and slid around the corner of the tent. The young woman ran into the surgeon and orderly she'd just seen in the tent moments ago.

Both men seemed not to notice her presence as they hurriedly jotted some notes. The medic dropped some objects and a letter into a drawstring bag.

"He's ready now," the medic remarked as he readjusted the sheet over the corpse on the litter.

"Alright," the surgeon replied. "Find the Chaplain and tell him we've got another burial." The two medical men then moved in opposite directions, leaving the dead soldier to his lonely silence.

Melanie looked out to the left and saw the vast field used for corn. To one side of it was the Prescott Family Cemetery. Squinting her eyes as she looked over it, she immediately noticed that there was something different about it. The young lady saw that the graveyard had been extended and included dozens of graves now. She assumed that the dead soldiers were being buried there. Melanie was fine with that, knowing her father and especially Matthew would have wanted the men to have a "decent resting place." Her brother the priest may have even been the Chaplain to perform some of the Interments.

Gazing over that place, Melanie picked out the large stone markers of her grandmother and grandfather Prescott. They had owned this land, then passed it on to her father and his family.

Melanie smiled to herself as she fondly remembered them. She recalled the stories they both told of their youth in England, and how they had come over here in the 1720's with hopes of having a better life than they would have had in their homeland. She had loved them both very much and it had hurt her so when they departed the world, only 5 years ago, one right after the decided to go to their graves for a quick visit.

~/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/~

Colonel Tavington and Major Bordon stalked down the far edge of the camp. A dragoon walked behind them leading their horses along, not even noticed by the two commanders looking intensely for their charge.

They were intently discussing where they should search next for Miss Prescott, or the possibility that she may have been picked up by rebels along the way. The two men stopped just outside the hospital tent and continued their talk and decisions to be made concerning the missing young lady.

~/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/~

Quiet and reverently, Melanie entered the now enlarged family cemetery. She easily picked out the headstones of her grandparents amidst all the new wooden crosses dotting the area. As she walked amongst the quiet, she felt it as a relief to leave the din of the camp behind for a few moments.

Once at her grandfather's grave, she knelt on the soft grass in front of it and made the Sign of the Cross upon herself. She smiled as the face of this beloved family member flashed across her mind.

After a moment of silent reflection upon his memory, she absently started pulling the weeds up from around the headstone. She looked to the right and saw the grave of a stillborn baby brother, who would have been the middle child. To the left was her grandmother's resting place.

Melanie stood up to move to her grandma's grave when something caught her eye. She hadn't noticed before, but just behind the graves of her grandparents, she saw white wooden crosses, all bearing the name 'Prescott' in large letters. Her heart began to race and her breathing became labored. She walked apprehensively back to those crosses.

As she neared them, she held her breath and became pale as she realized what each white cross said:

Hayden Prescott died 5 Nov 1778

Marilyn Prescott died 5 Nov 1778

Father Matthew Prescott died 5 Nov 1778

Jonathon Prescott died 5 Nov 1778

Josephine Prescott Died 5 Nov 1778

A cry strangled her throat as she now knew the ugly truth: that the whole family_ had_ been massacred and that _she was the only survivor_. Seeing the truth of this before her eyes made the situation even worse and broke her heart into tiny pieces. Tears stung her eyes and the cry stuck in her throat choked her.

After another moment of this horror, a shriek wrenched itself free from her. With all her hopes of their survival dashed, she dropped to her knees in front of her family's graves. She sobbed so hard it threatened to tear her body apart.

~/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/~

Above the noise around him, William thought he heard a woman's scream, although it was faint. He looked about for the cry, trying to spot trouble and hoping his Dragoons weren't the cause of it.

As he looked around, a lone, shapely figure of a woman in the cemetery caught his eye. He took out his long glass to view her more closely. He saw long, curly blonde hair, then recognized her profile as she turned her head to the side. She was weeping. He knew instantly that is was Miss Prescott.

"Bordon," said Tavington, still looking through his telescope intently at Miss Prescott.

"Yes, Sir," he acknowledged quickly, stepping back to face his superior. Seeing Tavington looking at something through his long glass, Bordon assumed there was something for him to see. He pulled out his own glass and aimed it the same direction as his commander's. He too, spotted Miss Prescott.

"Hmmmm," he sighed. "Higgins, Bailey!" Major Bordon slammed his long scope shut and shoved it back into the holder. Pointing toward the cemetery, he asked "See the lady over there?"

"Yes, sir," both privates answered.

"That is Miss Prescott. Apprehend her immediately. Bring her here," Bordon ordered.

The two young Dragoons left quickly. As they did, Tavington closed his scope and put it away. Then he turned to his second in command.

"Made good time for still being weak, she did," the Colonel remarked.

"Probably got a ride," mused Bordon.

"With rebels, no doubt."

"Most likely," Bordon retorted. "Who knows what or how much she told them about us and the fort."

Tavington raised his eyebrows in small surprise. "She's a known pacifist."

"Don't be so sure about that," warned the Major. "Her dead fiancé was a spy."

"You don't trust any Colonials, do you?" asked William.

"Do_ you_?" asked Alex, tossing William's question right back at him.

Colonel Tavington laughed. "No."

Bordon smiled. "I don't trust them because it's my job not to."

"Suspicious bastard, aren't you?" Will quipped.

"It's my duty to notice everything and question anything!" replied Alex.

"You do it too well, sometimes," Tavington joked.

"If I didn't," began Bordon, "you'd have me walloped down to Private!"

Both men laughed aloud. Then Bordon offered his hand to Tavington and shook it heartily.

"Congratulations, sir," he said as he did. "A job well done!"

"And to yourself as well," Tavington said, "possible disaster averted!" Both men were relieved just to have found Miss Prescott. They would have hated to have gone back to the fort empty handed, knowing they'd suffer Cornwallis' wrath.

"Sir?" asked Bordon, wondering why Tavington was congratulating him.

"If you wouldn't have supported my hunch to check here for her," he stated, "then the Lord General would have had us combing every damned swamp and bog in South Carolina for her!"

"Most assuredly," Bordon agreed.

With that, Tavington signaled for their horses to be brought to them.

~/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/~

In the cemetery, Melanie did not hear the dragoons approach her.

"Miss Prescott. Come with us please," they requested.

Startled, she looked up and recognized the familiar red and green jackets. She got to her feet fast and made to run but was quickly seized by the arm.

She was afraid of what would happen if she went back to the fort, not knowing if the British would be angry at her for leaving. Plus, she was home now, and wanted to stay there, even without her family.

Melanie struggled. "No!" she screamed. "I don't want to go! _PLEASE!"_

Miss Prescott fought the men, digging her heels into the sod, trying everything to get away from them as they dragged her along by her arms. The two soldiers led her from the cemetery and over to where their commanders were.

As she made a ruckus, an infantry colonel appeared out from behind the hospital tent near where Tavington and Bordon stood.

"What's the meaning of this?"demanded the infantry commander.

The two dragoon commanders were mounting their horses as the man approached them with his query.

"She escaped from Fort Carolina earlier today," stated Colonel Tavington. "Lord Cornwallis gave orders to find and return her."

"Oh," the infantry commander acknowledged, then stood aside, watching the events unfold.

A moment later, the privates had returned with the struggling girl held between them. One of them handed her basket up to Bordon. He looked through it for papers or contraband and found only the neatly folded mob cap and apron. He rolled his eyes and sighed, assuming she'd used this as a disguise to get out.

Melanie looked up at Colonel Tavington. She was desperate, not knowing what would happen to her for this.

"Colonel, please!", she pleaded. "Let me stay, please! This is my home! I don't want to stay at the fort!"

"Nonsense," he dismissed. "There is a war on and the men here are busy. They don't have the time or means to take care of a sick girl. You're safer at the fort."

Melanie still struggled in the grip of the Private Bailey. "NO! Colonel Tavington! NOOOO!"

Tavington said nothing back to her pleading. Instead, he looked at Private Higgins and ordered, "Give her to Major Bordon."

Higgins picked the girl up tightly and carried her over to Bordon's steed. He then handed the girl up to his superior. Major Bordon took her over his saddle, seating her in front of him, her legs dangling to one side of the horse and Alex's arm wrapped tightly about her waist to secure her.

Melanie Prescott turned back to look at Alexander Bordon's handsome eyes and besieged him silently with her own, which were full of tears. She sniffled.

Alex felt badly for her. He knew it must have been heart wrenching after all she'd been through, to only now see the graves of her family.

"Please," she begged, her voice breaking.

'I'm sorry, Miss," he answered, "We have our orders."

"Move out!" Tavington called out to his men.

As the small unit of dragoons started away, Melanie broke down and wept, not knowing if she'd ever see her plantation again.

She struggled still, wearily though, within Bordon's strong grip. He could feel her starting to tire out.

"There now, be still, Miss Prescott," he soothed. "You're going to wear yourself down more than you already have done."

Melanie surrendered and buried her eyes in Bordon's broad shoulder and wept. He let her as he rode on silently.

As the Dragoons reached the crest of a hill overlooking the plantation, Melanie raised her eyes, turned backwards and looked at her home down below. She started to sob again.

"I want my family! I want them back," she wailed in grief.

"Shhhh...of course you do," Bordon consoled her. "Settle back against me and rest. Don't exhaust yourself any further or you'll never heal."

Melanie hid her face in her hands and cried hard. She leaned back against Bordon, no longer having the strength to fight the situation or to sit upright.

After Major Bordon's horse had walked on awhile, he looked down at Miss Prescott and found that she had given in to sleep.

Within three hours, the Dragoons arrived back at Fort Carolina. Once safely inside the compound, Major Bordon carried the still sleeping Miss Prescott up to her room. He laid her in the bed and covered her up. He knew that her escape, subsequent journey, the shock of seeing her family's graves, and struggling had worn her still frail body out.

He filled a glass with water from the pitcher on the bureau and set it on the nightstand. After that, he sat down softly on the side of the bed and gazed at her for a moment. _My God, she's pretty, he thought to himself._

As he was lost in thought, she slowly opened her eyes and looked up at him, saying nothing and catching him staring at her.

Startled, he quickly looked away, then said in a dutiful tone, "You shouldn't have left the fort."

"I had to," she insisted softly. "You, the British, told me one thing, and the rebels told me something else. For hours I was so confused. I didn't know the truth for sure until I saw my family's graves." Her eyes started to well up with tears, seeing a flash of the family cemetery and graves in her mind.

Major Bordon didn't want her to cry again. He quickly steered her away with a question.

"_Who _told you _what?"_

"I was told that my family was alive," she murmured. "Someone had just seen them only a week ago. I tried to tell them that they were mistaken; that all of you told me I was the only survivor."

Melanie stopped for a moment, collecting her thoughts. The girl was still feeling overwhelmed.

She continued on. "Those men insisted that the British had lied to me to keep me here. They told me that the Redcoats meant to harm me and that I should leave."

The Major let out an exasperated sigh and shook his head. "That's ridiculous! You're here so that we can protect you. That day at your home, we were not able to catch all the rebels that hurt your family. Some of them are still out there and may be looking for you. They have reasons to kill you."

Melanie sat up. Her face was now very close to Alex's. Bordon felt his commanding presence ebb from him as she did this, just to have her so close to him. Their eyes locked with each other's, neither of them able to look away from the other. She looked so lost and helpless. He wanted badly to kiss her, but his officer's decorum forbade this.

"Why do they still want to kill me," she asked him, urging him for an answer.

"I think they may be afraid that you could identify them," he answered, "And then, if caught, they know they would be hanged."

She nodded her head and sighed. Alex thought she looked so weary.

"Who told you that your family was still alive?" Bordon queried.

"Three men in the prisoner compound," she answered, still looking innocently and deeply into the commander's eyes.

"That was very cruel of them to tease you in such a manner," he said. With that, he gently touched her shoulders and eased her back into her bed. He covered her up again and said, "Now, rest. You've had quite a day already and worn yourself out."

He stood up and watched her for a moment. She pulled the covers up tightly under her chin, turned onto her side and fell instantly to sleep.

With that, Bordon crept quietly from the room.


	9. Chapter 9 Dreams And Reality

Chapter 9 Dreams and Reality

In the evening of that same day, a restless Major Bordon left his room and strolled down to the British troop camp just outside the fort. It was full of activity: music, singing, dancing, card games, and enlisted men running into and out of the tents with their women friends.

Alex wove his way through the darkness and the bustle of the camp. He soon found himself outside the tent of his favorite whore. A lovely, shapely tart, Miss Diana Sandring was one of the better paid doxies of the lot.

Just as Bordon raised his fist to knock on the tent pole and announce himself, the woman came flying out of the tent door not knowing anyone was there. She ran right into the officer and was clearly startled.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she apologized with a look of fear in her eyes. "I didn't know you were out here."

She was instantly afraid, yet tried hard not to show it. It was known that Major Bordon could have a bad temper, and she didn't want to be on the receiving end of his wrath. Sometimes, when he had patronized her in the past, he had been rough with her, and had even tied her up on occasion. So, she shivered when she saw him, dreading what might come of this unexpected meeting.

Even though she was nervous at the Major's sudden appearance, he was still a good, regular customer of hers and he paid her well. She wondered sometimes, though, if his roughness, usually borne out of frustration over various things, was really worth the money.

"Oh, Good Evening, Miss Sandring," he said with only a slight smile.

"Hello, Major," she replied.

There was an awkward silence then between the two.

She forced herself to continue the greeting. "What can I do for you, sir?"

"Oh, I think you know," he answered smartly as his lips curled and eyebrows raised into a look of lasciviousness.

She swallowed hard and said, "Come in." Diana pulled the tent flap open, letting Major Bordon enter first with her following behind.

He came to a stop next to her cot, pulled his long braid queue over his shoulder and began to unwrap the ribbon coiled around the tight plait. The prostitute watched as he did this, trying to get up the nerve to tell him something.

Bordon was soon unbraiding his hair, not sensing the strumpet's apprehension. When done, he ran his fingers through the wavy, light red tresses, which now fell upon his shoulders.

Diana wasn't sure of the officer's mood this evening, so she couldn't anticipate what she was in for with him. She decided to let her customer know her feelings.

"Major," she began tentatively, "I'm afraid I'm going to have to charge you more than usual if you want to be rough or bind me." She hoped this might discourage him from this type of behavior.

"You _know_ I can afford it," he countered.

"Oh," she said quietly, still trying to hide her fear. "Yes."

Bordon sat down on her cot without hesitation and began to take off his boots. "Now, why don't you be a good girl and take care of my needs."

"Yes, sir," she answered. Diana moved in front of him and unlaced the bodice of her dress slowly. She pushed her sleeves down off her shoulders, baring her breasts. With her dress hanging limply on her now at her waistline, she moved to where the officer sat on her cot. Positioning herself, she stood between his legs, reached down, and loosened his cravat.

As she did this, Bordon leaned forward a little and nuzzled her bare chest. "Oh, Major," she sighed airily as she felt his warm mouth on her breasts. His lips and tongue continued to work her nipples as she untied his stock.

When she was done, she laid the cravat over the chair next to the cot. Alex then laid back on the bed where Miss Sandring straddled his legs and undid his breeches. She pulled them down over his hips and to his knees, then paused a moment to caress and tease his manhood with her hand. This released a breath from his throat.

Next, she took his erection into her wet mouth, causing him to moan. Alex raised his head slightly, looked downward, and watched her head move as she worked him in and out of her mouth.

He laid his head back again on the pillow and looked up at the canvas ceiling and remembered he was in a prostitute's tent. His heart longed for more, wishing this wasn't so and feeling disgust at patronizing a trollop, yet unable to deny his manly needs. Though he wanted more on an emotional level, he just wanted her to get on with satisfying him.

"Get on top of me, whore," he commanded. Diana stopped her oral attentions. She raised herself upward from between his legs, then hiked her skirt up.

Of her customers, Diana sometimes enjoyed being with Major Bordon, for he paid her generously and was well endowed physically. His sheer size gave her pleasure, even though it was nothing more than a job to her.

"Oh, God," she cried as she lowered herself slowly onto his hardness, drawing out the moment.

"Ah.....mmmmm...." sighed Alex as she did. He relaxed and closed his eyes as she began to rock against him. As he felt her moving atop him, his mind began to drift.

_He soon heard a familiar voice in his mind as daydreams took him prisoner. _

_"Oh, Alex," a girl's voice implored, "I want the comfort of your bed."_

_Bordon opened his eyes to the delicious site of a completely naked Melanie Prescott astride his body as he lay supine on his bed._

_"I need you so," she pleaded. "I want to feel your body against mine."_

_With that, she leaned down, covering his body with hers. He gasped as he felt her supple breasts against his bare chest. He opened his mouth and let her tongue and lips take his. _

_Then, she sat back up on him, took his hands in hers, and placed them on her bosom. Alex caressed her firm breasts as she began to move up and down on his hardness. _

_"Oh, God," he moaned as she did. _

_"I had to have you inside of me," Melanie lustfully cried. _

_Seductively, she took one of his hands from her chest and drew his index finger into her inviting mouth. She drove him mad with desire as she simulated oral copulation upon it._

_As she slid the digit out of her sweet mouth, she begged for his movement. "I must feel you moving inside me!"_

_With one swift move, the officer rolled her over onto her back, pinning her there. He re-entered her with a wild thrust, causing her to cry out. _

_"Oh, Alex!", she called and relented. "That's it! I want it deeper!"_

_He complied and drilled into her. She winced aloud with satiation. _

_"Oh God, harder! Please Alex!", begged Melanie._

_Bordon continued to bury himself deeply in her, thrusting hard and swerving against her body._

_"Oh, God! Please don't stop!" she pleaded, her voice screaming with desire._

_Then, their pleasure mounted and they came together, each moaning aloud in ecstasy. _

_Alex closed his eyes and laid exhausted and spent atop Melanie. She pressed her lips to his neck. _

He opened his eyes, panting hard, and realized he had just been satisfied by a prostitute— not the beautiful Miss Prescott of his fantasy. That ghost of a bed partner had only taken him hostage for a moment, making him forget that he was in a whore's tent.

Feeling cross that he'd forgotten himself and had given into his imagination, and feeling contempt that a strumpet was on him and not pretty Miss Prescott, a scowl crossed his face.

Diana was exhausted and panting as her body had collapsed upon his after her own climax. "Sir," she began, breath still ragged, "If you wanted my name to be 'Melanie', you should have told me that when we began."

This made Bordon angrier, discovering that he unknowingly had cried out Miss Prescott's name as he came. He frowned and strongly pushed himself up off the cot, causing Miss Sandring to slip off his body, as if she were dirty clothing cast aside onto the floor.

"Get off me, tart!" he growled. "I've got work to do in my room!"

Major Bordon quickly pulled his breeches back up and slid his boots back on. He left his hair hanging loose as well as his cravat. Reaching into his pocket, he tossed a few coins onto the whore's cot and left the tent without a word.

The woman thanked him in a low voice as he disappeared through the tent flap.

Alex Bordon's mind was in a frenzy as he tore a path through the tents and back to the main house. He was disgusted with himself for succumbing to the fantasy of bedding a prisoner. More so, because within the fantasy, Miss Prescott seemed to be in total control of him. And, he surmised that since he had fantasized about her, that she was somehow controlling him. Even more frightening to him was the fact that visions of her seemed to creep into his waking thoughts. She was somehow bewitching him, and he could not allow this to happen. He must be in control of himself and the situation at all times.

The officer had made up his mind years ago that no woman would ever again rule him or his life. He approached women cautiously these days, carrying a deep contempt for all females. He distrusted all of them, thinking them all no better than manipulative whores.

While he could admit that he lusted for the attractive daughter of the dead pacifist, he would never fall for such a girl. He was through with women and love and had vowed long ago that no matter what sort of woman he was with—camp follower, common whore, wife of a loyalist or fellow officer—that there would never be any feeling for them. He swore that he would always have the upper hand in any situation with them—no matter what the circumstance.


	10. Chapter 10 Of Prisoners And Officers

Chapter 10 Of Prisoners And Officers

The next day after Melanie was brought back to the fort, at the behest of Major Bordon she identified the three men who had 'coerced' her with falsehoods into leaving. She did so from the safety of a room in the main house with a window that overlooked the prisoner's compound. Recognizing the men through Bordon's long glass, she pointed them out to him, not knowing what was in store for the rebels.

The Major, at the request of Lord Cornwallis, had the bunch apprehended and later questioned them. With his knack for interrogation tactics, he was able to force them to admit to being part of the band that had opened fire on the Prescott family.

The three rebels were hanged soon after in front of the other prisoners to set an example that extremism would not be tolerated. Miss Prescott passed on the invitation to attend the execution of her family's killers. She politely stated that public executions were barbaric and sickened her. She told the Lord General that she was not the vengeful sort and that the deaths of all the murderers would never bring back her family.

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In the ensuing days after Melanie's return to the fort and subsequent hanging of the three rebels, she tried to make sense of the whole situation as she continued to grieve for her family, her old life, and her home. She felt useless just moping around her room in the fort and soon decided to try to find a way to be useful.

Miss Prescott soon found a way. She knew from hearing talk around the house that a Colonial surgeon had been captured and was made to doctor the rebel wounded and sick as they arrived, as well as take care of those already held in the prisoner's compound. So, Melanie went down to the prison camp, where she was let in by a rather green sentry, and volunteered to help with the rebel wounded. Her offer was graciously accepted, and her efforts helped to keep her mind occupied.

After a few hours in the surgery on this first day of helping, the girl was tired but happy to have been of some assistance to the weary surgeon. When they were through with the last patient, Melanie sighed and was glad for a lull in the activity, having thrown herself so totally into the task of nursing that she was now worn out.

"Well," the surgeon began as he covered the patient up, "we're through until the next load comes in."

Melanie Prescott smiled at him as she wiped her brow.

He continued. "The only reason the Redcoats keep me alive is because I am a doctor."

"This war will end some day," she replied in encouragement.

"Very soon, I hope," he added. "I think I shall go mad if I have to amputate another limb!"

She drew in a breath as she looked at the soldier being carried away to the recovery tent by the orderlies. "I'll fetch some clean water." Melanie picked up the two buckets, now full of blood tinged water and started toward the tent flap.

"Miss Prescott," the surgeon called. Melanie, still with pails in hand, turned back to look at him.

"While you're outside, would you please go to my hut and retrieve my field diary," he asked. "This last case was unusual and I'd like to note it in there while it's still fresh in my mind."

"Yes, I will," she nodded.

"It's on my desk."

Melanie smiled and disappeared through the door. Once outside the tent, she walked to the improvised gutter near the fence and emptied the pails. She made her way to the well and washed them out, then refilled them with water, lost in mundane thought as she did so.

Just as she picked up the buckets, Melanie remembered that she'd been asked to pick up the doctor's diary. Setting the full pails down beside the well, Melanie strode to the doctor's hut to retrieve the journal.

Inside his small hut, she found a few medical books lying around, as well as a copy of Paine's "Common Sense" lying open on the man's cot. She smiled at that, knowing the book was probably contraband, but thinking that the British most likely let him keep it just because they needed his services badly.

Melanie stepped over to the doctor's desk, which was against the back wall, and began moving some of the books and papers that littered it. She soon spotted the diary on the corner of the desk. As she reached to get it, she was unaware of the figure that lurked quietly at the door of the hut, leering at this vulnerable and pretty female.

"You're new around here, missy."

Startled, Melanie spun around to see a ragged rebel prisoner standing in the doorway of the hut.

"No...Uh...I...uh..," she stammered nervously. She felt afraid, not wanting to trust anyone these days after what the three rebel extremists had just put her through.

The man, older and hard looking, entered the cabin and walked toward her. He had an evil glint in his eyes. "Yeah, you are new. So, we should get to know each other."

Melanie gasped and backed away from the approaching menace. She found herself stopped by the wall, which she slid along, trying to keep distance between herself and her unwanted guest.

"Now, come here little girl," he smirked sinisterly, "and you'll soon be a woman."

Miss Prescott's eyes widened as she drew in a breath. The diary dropped from her hands as she went limp with panic. She tried to scream, but the sound laid mute in her throat.

The man suddenly lunged at her, just missing her as she jumped away. She ran to the door but felt herself yanked back hard. Her predator had a vice grip on her arm and pinned her to the wall.

"Help!", she screamed, finally able to dislodge a sound from her throat. Melanie soon went mute again in fear as she could see that her attacker was not pleased with her plea.

The man moved in a little closer to her. He reeked of sweat and whiskey. She turned her head away, not wanting to look at him. She whimpered as he squeezed her arm a little harder. With his other hand, he quickly fumbled with his trousers, trying to get them down.

"Help me!", yelled Melanie frantically. This time, the man seemed not to care that she had called out for he was too busy trying to yank his pants down.

Miss Prescott's jaw dropped as she saw a glint of steel. In a flash, she realized that the shimmer had come from a knife blade which was now pressed against the neck of the figure that loomed over her.

"You're so eager to thrust something," a deep voice said with pure control, "why don't you thrust yourself onto this dagger."

She immediately recognized the voice as that of Major Bordon. She drew a breath of relief inward, feeling safe now. As soon as the officer peered over the shoulder of the rebel at her, she felt secure enough to flee. Cautiously, she inched along the wall away from the two men until her body met the corner of the hut. She cowered there, thankful that Bordon had rescued her, but worried about an ugly struggle that might take place between her rescuer and attacker.

The door opened widely and two Dragoon privates entered, making much noise, looking about for their superior. The two had waited outside as their commander slipped quietly into the cabin after hearing and recognizing the screams of Miss Prescott.

Melanie looked at the men and was relieved that they were there to reinforce the Major's actions. Still tense though, her eyes darted back and forth from the privates to the Major and his captive.

"Bind him and take him to the cells," directed Bordon.

The privates obeyed, quickly binding the man and ushering him away. The Major went to the side of Miss Prescott. She was shaken and still standing against the wall.

"Are you hurt?" he asked with concern.

"No," she said, unable to even force a smile.

He took her arm and escorted her out of the cabin. Once outside, Melanie stopped mid step and looked back at the hut.

"Oh! The doctor's diary," she remembered. "I forgot it." She began to head back toward the surgeon's quarters but found herself gently restrained.

"I'll send someone else for it," said Major Bordon.

"Oh. Thank you," answered Melanie, a bit confused at his actions.

With this, the officer continued to guide her toward the compound gate, silent as he did. His hand was firmly holding her arm.

Just outside the gate, Bordon stopped and faced Melanie, still gently grasping her arm. "What were you doing down here," asked the officer.

"I was helping in the Colonial surgery tents," she replied.

"Well, your time could better be put to use in the British hospital tents," Alex retorted.

"I thought I could go where I please," she said, yanking her arm free of his hand. She cocked her head to the side, her eyebrows knitted in query as she challenged him.

"Not there," Bordon shot back as he looked down at her.

"Am I a guest...or a prisoner," she challenged, putting her hands on her hips.

Alex Bordon let out a sigh of frustration before he answered back. "A guest, of course."

Both stood for a few seconds as if squaring off with each other. Each waited for the other to issue the next bold words.

"Miss," Alex began, "We prefer that you not go to the Rebel Prisoner's compound."

"Why?" she queried.

"Because you seem to get into some kind of trouble every time you come down here!"

"What?", she asked, raising her eyebrows. "Trouble? What do you mean?"

"Well, that man tried to assault you, and here is also where you met the three rebels that told those awful lies to you about your family. You now know they were in with that bunch of men who attacked your home and family. They could have hurt you at that time."

"Well I would hope that you would have confiscated any weapons they might have," she shot back sarcastically.

"Yes, but contraband has been known to find its way in occasionally," stated the Major.

Melanie closed her eyes and sighed. She shook her head in frustration, once again feeling stifled and useless. She looked at the ground, dejected.

"Miss Prescott," Bordon continued in a commanding tone, "In the future, I advise you not to come into this area for your own safety. While we are still trying to capture the zealots that attacked your family, we have not yet found them all. And, it may not be revealed to us exactly who they are at the time, should they be captured. So, as a result, some of those men could be in here now. If they were to recognize you, I can't guarantee that me or one of my countrymen would be close enough to save your hide again. So please, stay out of this area and close to the main house."

She was stunned. She was a guest, but felt like a prisoner at that moment. The girl could only look up at Major Bordon with questioning eyes, too astonished to say anything.

Just then, a Redcoat private was passing by. Major Bordon handed Melanie off to the young man.

"Private, please escort Miss Prescott back to the main house."

The man led a mute Melanie back toward the house with Bordon watching behind them.


	11. Chapter 11 A Decision

Chapter 11 A Decision 

The large attic of the main house had been renovated and sectioned into small rooms to accommodate the growing number of officers arriving at the fort. Miss Prescott had been moved from Colonel Tavington's room to a new, smaller room in that space on the new third floor.

Tavington was glad to reclaim his old room, for the space and for privacy's sake. Major Bordon was equally glad to get rid of his superior for that same reason. The Major could breathe easier with his commander gone.

Now, Melanie Prescott sat alone on the window seat of her new room looking out over the activity in the fort's courtyard. She was bored.

Recently she had been barred from going into the Colonial Prisoner's Compound to aid the surgeons. Miss Prescott begged for things to do and ways to help around the fort, but had been told that there was enough help with things already. She wondered why the officers and house staff seemed to bristle whenever she wanted to leave her room.

The Generals and officers were nice and well mannered toward the girl and the house servants took care of her every need. Still, she was not used to sitting idly by; she was used to working hard around her family's plantation. She longed for ways to be useful. Her idleness made the long days of war drag slowly by.

Melanie was vexed by the officer's attitudes toward her. She was reassured that she was a guest, yet she wasn't allowed to move about freely. The girl felt like she was a prisoner, though the men insisted she was not. They reinforced to her that she was there to be protected, and her limited freedom was for her own safety and that of the Fort. There was, after all, a war on and prisoners were held nearby.

She felt smothered and hidden away in her lonely room. The boredom, idleness, and her own speculation about the truth of her situation weighed heavily on her mind. All these emotions collided within her, nearly driving her mad.

After Melanie stood and stretched, the lonely girl left her little room and wandered aimlessly about the house. She felt as if she was searching for something—something she couldn't seem to put her finger on.

Downstairs in the parlor, she passed General O'Hara, who gave her a funny look, despite a kindly greeting. In the drawing room, Captain Wentworth, the third officer of the Dragoons, read quietly, yet watched Miss Prescott out of the corner of his eyes. She'd often caught many of the house's occupants watching her when they thought she hadn't noticed it.

Feeling uncomfortable, Melanie made her way back up to her room. Inside the haven of her quarters, she sighed and looked blankly about the room. She felt lost, not knowing what she wanted or needed, or how to get or find it.

Miss Prescott paced about her small lodging for countless minutes. She stopped only after she realized she had been walking around the room in circles.

She sat down once again on the window seat, pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged them against her body. Then she rocked back and forth mindlessly releasing nervous energy. After a moment of this, her body stopped its motion. The girl laid her head upon her knees and closed her eyes, staying that way, quiet and still, for some time.

Moments later, Melanie opened her eyes and rested her chin upon her curled up knees. She heaved a forlorn sigh.

Within the solitude of her little fortress, thoughts clouded Melanie's mind. She reasoned that she could not go on like this for much longer. She once again questioned whether she was truly a guest or a captive. Wondering how long she would be there, she pondered her fate after the war was over. She reflected upon her dead family and questioned why something so cruel had happened.

Closing her eyes in efforts to force away more tears of grief, she couldn't help but contemplate why she had lived? Other than the obvious reasons of recovery and protection, she tried to imagine if there was another reason why she was there. Though her mind ran wildly away, she couldn't escape the underlying static of one thought: what to do about her current, tedious state?

Then, it came to her. To be able to retain a sense of herself, she could no longer sit there day after day. Melanie knew that she had to find away to get free of Fort Carolina.

After deciding to flee the fort, Miss Prescott then thought about her options. How could she get away and where could she go? Though she pined to go back to her plantation, she knew she must avoid it for they would most certainly look for her there after having found her there once before.

She ruminated that she could chance going North to her Aunt and Uncle Prescott's farm in Gettysburg to hide. Then Melanie remembered that Major Bordon was adept at gleaning information. He surely knew through his intelligence network that she had relatives in Pennsylvania and would check there. She was hopeful, though, that her Uncle and Aunt could find a safe haven for her close by them in which she could wait out the war.

So, she decided to make her way North; it was worth the chance. Now she had to find a way to get out of the fort. Melanie thought a moment about her options.

She could charm her way out of the fort, as she did before. But this was risky, for after being interrogated by Major Bordon after that last 'escape', he'd probably informed the sentries about her and to be careful.

The fort was surrounded by a tall, timber spiked fence—some of it fortified with earthwork redoubts. Miss Prescott wondered if she could go over the fence. Of course, she could use a sheet, knot it at one end, toss that up so that it lands between the spikes and anchors itself. She could then climb up over the fence to freedom. But, on the other hand, she was still a bit stiff and slow moving from her injuries, so she thought she might not make if over the fence in time before getting caught.

Maybe she could squeeze out of a gap in the fence? She tried to remember seeing any weaknesses in the fence row, maybe a hole just wide enough for her to slide between. Unfortunately, when out on her walks, she was seldom allowed close enough to the fence to notice any. Besides, it seemed like there was always someone working on the fence weaknesses, repairing and refortifying it.

Melanie thought about disguising herself again—this time as a soldier. But she'd have to get a uniform. Sneaking into the supply hut was not an option for it was a busy place. The supply officer used it as his quarters, sleeping in there at night.

She wondered if she could steal a uniform from the laundry. No, it was busy most of the time, as well. She could swipe one from an officer's room. That wasn't viable, either, for their doors were usually locked. Even if she could take one from a soldier's quarters, the officers were well known around the fort. Melanie would need to blend in to the masses of young, enlisted soldiers—not stand out like an officer.

Melanie closed her eyes and rubbed her temples, her head aching as she thought of ways to escape. She drew in a breath, stretched her legs out in front of her on the window bench, and reclined back.

As she rested back against the wall, Melanie peered out the window again, viewing the activity in the courtyard. The girl saw a covered wagon marked "Devington Mills" on the side, pull up in front of the detached kitchen building. She watched as a man dismounted and went into the structure.

Miss Prescott sat up straight and stared intently at that wagon. Then a grin slowly crossed her face. If she could slip unnoticed into that wagon, she reasoned, then she could stowaway to freedom.

With an idea in mind, she grabbed a gathering basket from beside the fireplace and bolted from her quarters. Once on the first floor, she strode confidently to the main entry. A young sentry standing just outside the door stopped her.

"Good morning, Miss Prescott," he said politely.

"Good morning, sir," she replied sweetly. "May I go out to collect some flowers for my room?"

The soldier looked questioningly at her, then down at her basket, staying silent all the while he did.

Melanie spoke up. "I won't go far. I'll stay near the house. I can gather from the flower beds against this house and by this kitchen."

"Alright," he relented. "But, be quick about it or the Lord General will have my head."

"Thank you," she smiled. "I will." With that, she started down the steps. The girl tried to appear calm but her heart was pounding an anxious beat in her chest.

Melanie soon busied herself pulling flowers. As she did, she positioned herself where she could easily view the wagon. She watched the driver unloading heavy bags of sugar and flour, taking it into the kitchen. No one helped him. Soon, he reappeared with some empty burlap sacks laid over his arm, tossing them into the back of the wagon.

Nonchalantly, Miss Prescott made her way closer to the wagon and driver. He didn't notice her. She knelt down at the flower bed next to the kitchen building close enough to hear the exchanges between the driver and the cooks.

The driver stated that he needed someone to sign the receipts, then went into the cooking building. She noticed he closed the door behind him absently. Melanie figured that he was nearly done with his business and would soon be leaving.

At the same time, shouts about her from the watchtowers got her attention. She knew that a patrol was about to come in through the entrance. With the driver occupied inside and the others' attention turned toward the returning patrol, coupled with the noise of their stampeding horses, she knew this was her chance.

Melanie placed her basket into the foliage, which helped to obscure it, and walked to the wagon. The canvas blocked her from being seen by anyone in front of the wagon. As she heard the gates of the fort open, she looked about cautiously, careful not to draw attention to herself.

An instant later, there were shouts and the stomping of horses. With the din and commotion to shield her and occupy the others, she pulled herself quickly up and into the back of the covered wagon.

She wedged herself in between the heavy bags of sugar and flour. Covering herself with a couple of the empty sacks, she pulled with all her might on two of the loaded bags in order to hide partially beneath them.

There, tucked away neatly beneath the heavy bags, she hid discreetly. She prayed silently for the driver to hurry back and leave, hoping the wagon would not be searched. Melanie waited there for her freedom.

In a couple of moments, the deliveryman reappeared and mounted the wagon, not bothering to look in the back. A minute passed before the wagon pulled away with a jerk. As it did, Melanie smiled to herself, pleased that she was able to initiate another escape with little effort.

But, Miss Prescott wasn't clear of trouble yet. Suddenly, the wagon jolted, then stopped. She swallowed hard and held her breath, trying not to tremble. She heard the gate sentries state that they needed to look in the wagon.

Panicked, Melanie squeezed her eyes shut. "Please don't let them find me," she prayed silently. She heard the booted footsteps of an approaching soldier as they fell upon the ground by the carriage.

The soldier crouched down and looked under the wagon. Then, he peered into the back of wagon. He did not see Melanie, who was perfectly hidden.

After a tense moment, the girl heard the footsteps walking away. "Move out," she heard the soldier say. With that, the wagon rocked forward and moved again.

The sound of the horses hooves and the wagon wheels turning on the ground were a sweet sound to the girl. And hearing the fort gate swing open was the sound of freedom. She breathed easily and relaxed now.

As the wagon left the fort and rolled along, Melanie thought about what to do next. She figured that since a few bags of flour and sugar remained, the driver obviously had another delivery to make.

Melanie decided that she would slip out of the wagon at the next stop. _A village would be best, she thought._ It would be easier to get a ride North from there.

If the wagon stopped at a farm or plantation, all she could do was hope the owners weren't Loyalists and that they would help her. Whichever was the case, she knew she'd have to rely on the kindness of strangers.

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"What do you mean she's gone?", An angry Tavington exclaimed as jumped up from his desk.

Bordon, who was sitting in the chair across from Will's desk, rolled his eyes. He laid the document he was looking at down on William's desk and stared up at Captain Wentworth.

"We couldn't find her anywhere," the young officer replied. The dragoons' third in charge then held up a basket of flowers, showing it to his superiors as he continued. "We found this. She was last seen by the house sentry and one of the kitchen servants in the flower beds just outside of this house."

The Colonel stayed silent a moment as he fumed. He, Major Bordon, and Miss Prescott were to have joined the Lord General for lunch today, at the General's request. Tavington had sent the Captain to retrieve the girl and escort her to his office. Colonel Tavington wasn't sure if the officer had just overlooked her, or if she had escaped.

The Major rose from his chair. "Did you look everywhere?"

"Yes," Wentworth answered.

"Did you check the Rebel prison camp?" Bordon delved.

"No. We didn't, sir," the Captain replied.

Tavington interrupted, turning back to Bordon. "I thought you made it clear to her not to go in there again?"

"I did," Alex argued. "But I suspect she still wanders in there sometimes."

Tavington heaved a frustrated sigh and turned away from his two underlings. He calmed himself, trying not to panic.

Turning back to face the officers, he gave his orders. "Search the grounds again, including the rebel compound. Gather a few men to help you."

"Yes Sir," Wentworth obeyed. He then bowed his head, turned, and left the room. Bordon began to follow him out when he was halted.

"Hold on, Major," Will requested.

"Sir?" Alex turned back to face William.

"Get a few of the dragoons. Meet me at the gate saddled and ready to ride."

"Oh, you don't think she's escaped again, do you?" Bordon asked in disbelief coupled with dread.

"I think that where there's a will, there's a way," Tavington remarked. "We'll split up the group and search the area around here. She can't be far if she was just seen."

A few minutes later, Colonel Tavington stood on the front lawn of the main house with his helmet tucked under his arm. His eyes randomly followed pairs of his men looking about for Miss Prescott. General Charles O'Hara stood next to him, watching as well after having been apprised of the situation.

A moment later, O'Hara bid William good luck and went to make apologies to Cornwallis for his absent lunch guests. He also planned to try to smooth things over with the Lord General. A grateful Tavington thanked him.

Just after O'Hara left, Will looked back to see Bordon talking with Captain Wentworth and a few of the dragoons. He raised his eyes and saw some of the horses assembled near the gate. A few of the men were preparing to ride out.

Tavington donned his helmet and walked toward the group. As he neared them they began to disperse, having been dismissed by Major Bordon.

As Bordon barked orders to mount horses, Tavington walked not toward them, but to the gate sentry instead. Alex watched his commander curiously as he did.

"Private," Will began in a clipped tone, "Have any carriages or wagons left here recently?"

"Yes," answered the sentry. "Just one."

The corners of Tavington's mouth crept up into a subtle, pleased smile. He raised his eyebrows as his blue eyes twinkled with satisfaction. Then he spoke.

"What did it look like?"

~/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/~

Outside the fort, William ordered the men to split into two groups. He asked Lieutenant Scott to head one of the groups and break it down into smaller pairings and search the woods and fields immediately around the fort. Tavington and Bordon took a handful of men and headed down the Cascadia Road—the familiar road that led to the Prescott plantation .

After a few moments of moving at an easy trot to warm the horses' legs up, they slowed to a walk. All sets of eyes scanned the woods on either side of the road for movement, with all ears listening for it as well.

A minute later, Bordon broke the silence, talking in a hushed voice to his commander. "Colonel, we're not going to her plantation, are we?"

"No," answered William. "She's smart enough not to hide there."

Will paused for a moment to look back behind him at the men. He turned forward again in his saddle and in a resolute voice stated simply, "We're looking for a wagon."

~/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/~

Melanie's eyelids were heavy as she laid secure amongst the wagon's cargo. The steady rhythm of the carriage was lulling her to sleep. She fought to keep her eyes open, but to no avail. She soon nodded off.

~/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/~

Colonel Tavington and Major Bordon saw a covered wagon on the road ahead of them. Bordon signaled the men to keep silent. The bunch rode on at a steady pace, soon catching the wagon.

Once alongside of it, Tavington motioned the wagon's driver to stop. Bordon did the same for the men. As all came to a stop, William pointed his pistol at the driver and nodded for him to dismount the wagon. The deliveryman was scared, but understood and complied with the Redcoat officer's silent request. The driver had been through this inconvenience before, resigning himself to the hassle of contraband searches for as long as this war would last.

The other Dragoons, still silent and mounted on their steeds, covered the wagon with their guns, watching for any movement in the back of the thing. As they did, Major Bordon dismounted quietly and pulled the driver away from the carriage.

"We need to search your wagon," Bordon stated in a very low voice. He then pointed his weapon at the driver, motioning him to stay quiet and raise his hands in the air. The driver obeyed and stayed silent as he watched the cavalry go to their business.

Colonel Tavington dismounted his beast in a whisper. Then, he stalked slowly and quietly around to the back of the wagon, careful not even to let his spurs jingle.

Melanie woke up disoriented, realizing she had fallen asleep on her ride. She hadn't been asleep for long when the feeling that the wagon was no longer moving awakened her. The girl shook off her sleep, excited to get out of her cramped little hiding place. Staying still a moment, she listened cautiously and wondered where they were.

The stowaway could hear a horse's whinny and the stomping of its feet, but no other noise. Melanie knew it was too quiet to be a village, and she heard no farm animals for it to be a plantation.

Hearing only the sound of the woods, she could only assume that the driver had stopped to relieve himself. Miss Prescott decided to stay put for a few minutes, wanting to wait for the driver to come back to see what he would do next.

Melanie soon heard footsteps and was relieved, thinking the driver was on his way back to the wagon. But, she held her breath as the steps moved toward the back of the carriage where she was hiding.

Suddenly, the flour bag she had pulled over herself was ripped away. Melanie looked up with wide eyes to see Colonel Tavington glaring down at her from the back of the wagon. Her breath caught in her throat, rendering her shocked and speechless.

"Good day, Miss Prescott," he greeted in a snide manner. "So, tell me, were you just out for a pleasure ride, or have you taken up delivery as an occupation?"

Melanie's face and neck turned red with embarrassment and shame. She said nothing back to him and cast her eyes downwards. She wished she could slink back underneath the heavy bags of flour lying beside her.

William reached in to the back of the wagon and took Melanie's hand. He then helped her out of the wagon, where two dragoons on horses were pointing pistols down at her. She dared not run.

Major Bordon, seeing all this from the front of the wagon where he held his gun on the driver, dismissed the man. The officer then walked back to join the others behind the wagon.

As Tavington climbed up into his saddle again, he calmly gave orders. "Bind her hands, then bring her to me."

Bordon, still walking to the back, grabbed a cord off his saddle as he passed his horse. He met Miss Prescott at the back of the wagon. He felt a little sorry for her as she looked scared, but he was irritated at her as was his commander for this was the second time she'd run away—the second time they had to look for her.

He directed the dragoons to put away their guns, then firmly took Melanie's thin wrists in one of his hands. With the other, Alex twisted the cord quickly about them, binding her like a captive.

She could tell by his speed that Major Bordon had probably bound dozens of people before her, for he was good and quick at it. Burning with humiliation, she looked down at the ground, then closed her eyes.

Alex Bordon took the bit of lead on the rope and pulled her behind him to his commander. Once there, he lifted her with strong arms up by the waist to his superior. William grasped her and pulled her over on to the saddle in front of him. He said nothing as he watched his second in command get back on his animal.

Bordon gave the signal for the dragoons to move out, leaving a confused delivery driver behind them to puzzle over the situation. When they were out of earshot of the wagon, Tavington spoke.

"Now, Miss," he began, "I believe we have a luncheon engagement with General Cornwallis."

Melanie sighed and looked away from him. Will took hold of her chin with his fingers and gently guided her head back around to look at his face.

Then, he sneered, "I'm afraid you're going to have to explain to the Lord General why we're late!"


	12. Chapter 12 For Display Purposes Only

Chapter 12 For Display Purposes Only

Melanie Prescott did not get into too much trouble when she was returned to the fort. Lord Cornwallis talked with her and assured the girl that she was a guest there—for her own protection. He declared that he felt it his duty to take care of her since he had known and respected her father, and her family was dead now. The general also told her he felt obligated to shelter her since the King now possessed her homestead. Cornwallis reminded her that the group of rebel extremists that killed her family were still out there hiding and knew that she was alive, and they lived in fear of her and what she might know of them.

"Yes!", Cornwallis asserted. "You're much safer here at the fort!"

She could not fight the Lord General's charm and persuasion, and decided that just for his sake, she would try to stomach living a guarded life at the fort.

~/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/~

A few days after her second escape attempt, Melanie was made to accompany Major Bordon and a group of dragoons out of the fort. The details of this trip out were not disclosed to her. She was bound at the wrists despite her protests.

When she asked why she was tied, Alex Bordon merely replied, "For your own safety...and to assure that you don't pull another damn fool stunt like the other day and end up getting into trouble with the rebels!"

They left the fort with a small band of infantry. The soldiers traveled off the main road via a little used cow path in the woods. At the end of the day, they made a camp for the night beside a small creek.

Still bound, Melanie wandered from the main campfire to a smaller one where the dragoons' bedrolls were. Bordon was set up in a modest tent close to the main fire bowl.

On her way as she strolled between the campfires, she was accosted by three infantry privates.

"My, aren't you a pretty one," one man teased in his cockney accent.

Melanie bit her lip and said nothing, walking on.

"Oh, look," one of them jeered, "The Yankee tart is too good to talk to us!"

She drew in a small breath and ignored them, starting to pick up her walking pace. She wanted to get to the Dragoon section quickly. At least she knew some of those men.

"Maybe she only likes men with horses!"

"Come here, sweetie! I'll give you a proper horse to ride!"

Melanie, astonished at the lewd remark, looked back at the voice. When she turned back forward to move away, she ran into one of the other soldiers. She found that she was now surrounded by the three.

"Let me by," she pleaded quietly, her voice betraying her fright.

One of the redcoats grabbed at her skirt.

"Stop it!," she exclaimed, pulling away from him.

"Ah, sassy little bird, aren't you?"

All three of the men began grabbing at her sleeves and skirt. She quickly brought up her bound hands and hit one of them upside the head.

That man, angered at her now, grabbed her hair. "Colonial slut!" he yelled, jerking her head.

The girl struggled to get away. Her head and neck hurt from being jerked about and she could feel the other two men's hands fumbling with her skirt and touching her legs.

"Major Bordon," she called out without thinking, "Help me!"

Alexander Bordon was in his tent jotting notes in his field diary when he heard the frantic cries. He looked up from his writing, then stood up. Mildly irritated and a little worried, he stomped out of his tent in the direction of the scream, knowing it was Miss Prescott's voice.

In the dim firelight, he could make out a woman's figure surrounded by some infantrymen. He stormed over to the group in aggravation.

"Get your hands off of her," he ordered. The three men still hasseling her looked up toward the deep voice. They dropped her immediately and stood at attention.

Almost as quickly, Melanie jumped behind the Major for protection. She listened to his words to the men, feeling safe as she hid behind his tall and formidable figure.

By now, a few other dragoons had heard the shouts of Miss Prescott, then their commander, and hurried over to the bunch. Bordon spotted the commander of the infantry moving toward them, having also heard the commotion.

"Captain," snapped Bordon, "Please do a better job of containing your men. They became fresh with Miss Prescott here!"

"Yes sir," the officer answered, looking confused at his three soldiers and obviously embarrassed.

Bordon continued on in a stern voice. "This lady is not to be harassed. Do you understand, Captain?"

"Yes sir," he nodded.

With that, Bordon turned around to Melanie, who was still hiding behind him. She smiled graciously up at him, opening her mouth to thank him.

Instead of returning the cordiality, the officer scowled down at her and took her firmly by the arm. Leading her away from the bunch, he smirked, "Miss Prescott, you have a talent for getting into trouble."

Melanie was puzzled at the major as he pulled her away from the group. She tried to jerk her arm out of his hand, but his grip was too strong.

"But they were lewd to me and made advances," she protested.

Bordon continued to drag her along, annoyed at her. "Did you entice them?"

"Of course not!" She was shocked that he thought she'd even do such a thing.

"Honestly," Bordon sighed as he neared his tent, "you can't be left alone for one moment without trying to run or getting into some kind of trouble!"

Melanie said nothing back to his remark, too confused and astonished at his actions. The girl had wanted to thank him for helping her, but was too scared to say it, discerning his irritation at her.

"Private Higgins," Bordon called.

The young cavalry private was soon at his commander's side. "Sir?"

"Gather Miss Prescott's bedroll and bring it here to my tent!"

"Aye, sir," the young soldier complied and quickly disappeared.

"What!" Melanie exclaimed. "I can't sleep in there with you!"

"Why not?" Bordon asked, aggravation smeared across his face.

"Because...well...because...it's not proper," stammered the girl.

"I know it's not," he barked. "But I can't trust you and I can't trust some of these men!"

"And how do I know I can trust you," she shot back, forgetting that she was addressing an officer.

"I'm in no mood to argue about this, Miss," he replied with an irritated hiss.

"But, people will talk," she protested.

The major, already tired from the day's ride, lost his patience.

"Miss," he snarled, "Who's hands are bound and who's are not?" He held up his freed hands in front of her face, as if flaunting the fact that he was not the one who was bound. "You have no choice in this matter."

About this time, the private returned and handed the girl's bedroll to Major Bordon. He tossed it into the tent then took Melanie's arm again.

She resisted and pulled back. Narrowing her eyes at him, she declared defiantly, "I am NOT sleeping alone in that tent with you!"

Alex became angry. He gripped her upper arm firmly, making her wince. He loomed menacingly over her and looked down at her condescendingly.

"Miss Prescott," he growled with gritted teeth, "need I remind you who is in charge here?"

Afraid but still standing her ground, she protested, trying to disguise the fright in her voice. "I'm not one of your soldiers!"

"I am the commanding officer of this mission and you will do as I say," Bordon threatened.

A frightened Melanie kept silent and let the officer lead her inside. Once there, she kept quiet as she watched the man lay her bedroll out across the modest tent from his. Major Bordon could see her apprehension. The officer felt like this was the only way that he could keep an eye on her and protect her, something the men seemed to have a hard time doing. Besides, she wouldn't attempt an escape from the ranking officer's tent.

He spoke up, wishing to ease her fears. "Miss Prescott, I assure you that you've nothing to worry about," he explained. "If I try anything improper, which officer's decorum prevents me from doing, then you may call Lieutenant Scott and he will come to your aid. But I can honestly say that I am too tired to try anything."

Melanie did not answer Bordon. She stepped quietly to where her bedroll lay. As she knelt down on her bed, the Major held her arm and steadied her so that she wouldn't fall. The girl looked up at the man.

"I'll be back in a few minutes," Bordon stated. "Don't try anything foolish. I'll post guards around the tent."

Relenting, Melanie did not argue with his warning. She sighed in resignation as she watched him leave. The girl could hear Major Bordon's voice outside of the tent.

Looking across the tent at his bedroll, she studied the few things he had brought with him. A haversack lay at the foot of the bedroll, as did his grooming kit. She would have loved to scrounge through the bag to see if he had any books or maps. She knew she could tell a little more about him by doing this—but she didn't dare.

Feeling tired, she decided to lay down. This was the first time she'd ever slept while bound. As she maneuvered her tied hands to push the covers back, she tucked herself under the blankets, then closed her eyes.

After a few moments, she opened her eyes again, unable to fall asleep. She moved in the blankets on to her side facing the center of the tent. Melanie moved her bound wrists up to the pillow and laid her head upon her hands. She watched the shadows and shapes dance across the side of the tent from the campfire. Hearing footsteps coming toward the tent, she squeezed her eyes shut and prayed that Bordon would not hurt her.

Alex was quiet as he entered the tent, adding to the stillness that had settled over the camp. He looked over at the sleeping girl and moved about the tent silently.

After a moment, Melanie opened her eyes, but lay still. They had adjusted to the darkness, and in the dim campfire light that filtered through the canvas, she watched Major Bordon as he readied for bed. She looked at him as he removed his boots, socks, jacket, and waistcoat. Her eyes followed his strong fingers as they undid the stock at his throat and opened the collar of his shirt.

Still watching his silhouette, she stared at him secretly as he reached behind his head to undo his braid. The girl marveled at his long, red hair, as he ran his fingers through the waves. Smiling to herself, she thought he looked more like a common man now instead of an aloof officer as his long hair settled about his shoulders and ruffle of his collar. She clamped her eyes shut, feigning sleep, as the Major crawled into his bedding.

~/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/~

Three hours later, Miss Prescott woke up from her sleep. She had never slept on the ground before, only in a bed, so she wasn't comfortable. The dying embers of the campfire outside the tent cast a pale glow through the canvas. Melanie rolled on to her side again, facing the center of the tent. She could see Major Bordon across from her, sound asleep, snoring very lightly.

Melanie propped herself up on her elbow carefully with hands still bound and looked over at the sleeping officer. He looked so peaceful, much different from the intensity that he wore on his face most days. His red hair fell wildly about, spilled over the pillow, blanket, and his shoulder.

As Melanie gazed at him, her mind wandered. She thought he was handsome, the same as she felt about Colonels Tarleton and Tavington. Often, she had wondered about the officers. Tavington and Bordon were so duty driven, while Tarleton, she'd noticed, liked to let down and have fun.

In the fort, she'd seen all kinds of women flocking to all three of the men. But she'd never seen a wife or children with any of them. She assumed they were all bachelors. Melanie smiled to herself, thinking that all three of the officers must be resistant to the charms of women.

Miss Prescott continued to study Major Bordon's form, letting her thoughts run wild as she did. She sighed as she thought of him: his light read hair, his strong arms, his blue eyes, the deep richness of his voice, how his height towered over her. To her, he was very handsome.

Sensing a flush and heat coming over her skin, she could feel her heart beating fast within her chest. She held her breath a moment as she continued to gaze at Alex Bordon.

She could not seem to stop looking at the sleeping officer. Suddenly, she realized that she was attracted to him. Melanie tried to deny the thought, thinking it ridiculous. He hadn't noticed her and he had his pick of dozens of women at the fort.

Melanie's fiancé Peter had been dead over a year now. Alexander Bordon was the first man she'd taken a second look at since.

How could she like him? He treated her firmly, like he would a captive. Besides, as duty oriented as he was, he'd never get involved with a Colonial—even one that was a pacifist.

She sighed and closed her eyes. Opening them, she looked longingly at the peaceful soldier. She had the sudden urge to kiss the man's cheek gently as he slept.

Miss Prescott thought her musings were nonsense. She cringed with futility and helplessness. Then, she rolled over, facing the tent side again, so that she wouldn't have to look at the man again. She pulled the covers up over her head and fell asleep.

~/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/~

The next day, late morning, Miss Prescott was seated on Bordon's steed behind him, hands still bound. The Major, Melanie, and two other dragoons hesitated at the edge of the forest. Bordon pulled out his long glass and focused on a large house a quarter of a mile away.

"Let's go," he ordered, after a moment.

Melanie held on to Bordon, fistfuls of his wool jacket bunched up in her hands. She looked to the side as they rode out of the forest toward the house. One of the dragoons with them was now carrying high a white flag as he rode. The girl wondered what they were doing.

The group rode up to the house and were stopped by sentries of the Colonial army. Melanie looked about at all the blue uniforms. She didn't know whether to feel safe or afraid, sitting on a horse in the midst of two warring factions!

Alex addressed the sentry. "I'm Major Bordon of His Majesty's Green Dragoons. I have an appointment to speak with General Washington. Here is his letter to verify that." He handed the note down to the private, who quickly read it.

_General Washington, she thought_. Melanie knew him. He'd worked with her father several times. She became excited. Maybe they were going to turn her over to his care.

"Ride up to the porch, Major. I'll meet you there and escort you to the General," requested the sentry as he handed the note back up to Bordon. Alex nodded his head regally, then rode with the others toward the large veranda of the house.

"General Washington will be with you in a few moments," said the young Colonial Private as he showed Major Bordon and Melanie Prescott through a doorway into a small room. Bordon scanned the room quickly, figuring that it had at one time been a bedroom, and was now furnished sparsely with a table and chairs, most likely for interrogations.

"Here is a chair for the lady," the Private said politely, pulling a chair from the corner of the room for her. Bordon took her elbow and steadied her as she sat down.

The private left the room, shutting the door behind him. There was an awkward silence between the two occupants left there.

Melanie broke the silence. "Why are we here?"

"To see General Washington," Bordon answered in a clipped tone.

Melanie spoke up quickly without thinking. "He worked with—"

"Your father," interrupted Bordon. "You know him. Yes, I realize that."

She sighed and looked down at her lap, folding her roped hands within it. "You seem to know everything about everyone," she commented in a resigned voice.

"It's my duty," answered the Major. "I'm an intelligence officer. I know most all the goings on in whatever area we are posted to."

Puzzled, Melanie wondered just why she was here with Bordon. She knew that as an officer, he probably had business with the Colonial leader. Why then, did she have to accompany him?

"Why am _I_ here?" she asked the officer after summoning some courage.

"The General wanted to see you," Bordon replied.

"Oh," she said. She smiled inwardly, feeling good about seeing a familiar face again. Perhaps the English were going to leave her there with Washington.

"Would you please untie me so that I might make myself presentable to him?"

"No," Bordon said shortly.

"Why?"

"I cannot," answered the Major. "You are to be bound whenever you're away from the fort."

"But I can't run from here! You're with me," she protested. "The room is guarded!"

"I'm sorry, Miss. I have my orders."

Melanie shook her head in disbelief. Was she really expected to see General Washington bound up like a common prisoner?

"I can't go before the General in chains," she argued.

"The General has seen people bound before," reasoned Major Bordon, "and this won't be the last time. We are at war. It is a common sight."

Jumping to her feet in a panic, she pleaded, "Please don't make me stand before him in shackles. It's demeaning."

"I assure you that he won't think any less of you," insisted Bordon.

Melanie sat down with a disappointed sigh, fretting over the thought of being bound before George Washington, one of her father's friends. Would the General really understand her dilemma? Would he think she had gotten into some trouble? What would he think when he saw her shackled?

Before Melanie could speak again, Bordon moved to stand in front of her. He looked down menacingly at her. She looked up at him, feeling confused and afraid.

"A word of warning, Miss Prescott," he began in a low and serious voice, "The General may ask you some questions. You would be wise to answer them carefully."

"What do you mean?" Melanie asked, puzzled.

A look of threat covered the officer's face suddenly, furrowing his brow and drawing his lips tightly together. "I mean that you had better not try getting a message across to him in coded language, or disclose too much about your situation."

"I can't lie to the General," she demurred.

"I'm not asking you to do that," he said. "I'm telling you to watch how you answer him."

"How do I know what to answer?" Melanie queried.

"I'll tell you which questions you can or can not answer," explained Bordon. He leaned down closer to her. "If you disclose too much about your situation, you will have to be moved from the fort."

Bordon stood up again and took a couple of steps back from Melanie. "You have very nice accommodations, Miss Prescott- luckier than most. You could be moved to a guarded cabin, out in the western territory. You wouldn't have the luxuries out there that you have here. Things are a little scarce."

The Major walked to the wall, then turned back to face the girl. He crossed his arms in front of him and leaned back against it and looked her squarely in the face and continued with his threat.

"Or, it could be worse. You could be moved to a prison camp."

Melanie Prescott's head was spinning. She didn't want to suffer the indignity of being bound before the Colonial's most supreme leader. She had to watch how she answered her questions, and Major Bordon was threatening her.

Looking down at her bound hands and pondering the situation, she felt her eyes stinging. The girl held her breath in the silence of the room, trying to force back the tears. Soon, though, they began to fall as she cried at her desperateness.

Bordon watched her for a moment. He moved to her side, feeling pity on her. The officer knelt down in front of her.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled his handkerchief from it and handed it to her. "Don't cry," he soothed. "There's nothing to worry about. He only wants to see you and ask some questions—"

"That you won't let me answer," she sobbed.

"You may answer his questions...carefully," he warned in a soft voice.

Melanie handed the cloth back to the Major after she'd finished drying her eyes and wet cheeks. She watched as the officer tucked it back into his jacket.

When he was done, Alexander, still kneeling in front of her, looked up at the young woman. Just then, their eyes locked with each other. Their faces were very close.

Both were silent as each felt whirlwinds of feelings. Bordon felt a softness moving through his body and soul as he looked at her, as if she melted him. Melanie's gaze held a pleading—an unknown longing for something.

"Please untie me," she begged in a whisper, wanting to appeal to him, hoping kindness would overtake him. Yet, strangely, wanting more: wanting him to return the same look of pleading; maybe to kiss her. A tear ran from the corner of her eye and down her face.

Alex Bordon reached up to her cheek and brushed the tear away with his fingers. In a gentle voice, he answered her request simply. "I cannot."

In an instant, they heard footsteps outside the door and the door knob turn. Bordon quickly jumped to his feet, ready to meet whoever came through it.

A very tall man slid through the door, looking regal in his decorated blue uniform. He moved toward them and offered a nod of respect to the Dragoon commander.

"Major Bordon, I presume," he said with utmost manners and courtesy, showing himself as an upper class country gentleman.

"General Washington," Bordon acknowledged with a respectful nod of his head.

The colonial officer then turned to Melanie and bowed. He took her hand and kissed it as he greeted her. "Ah, Miss Prescott."

"General," she said. She smiled happily back at him.

Washington noted a look of relief on her face, as if she was happy to see someone she knew. He would remember this so that he could disclose it to his intelligence officers. Since the British sent the letter to Washington and requested only him, the man knew he'd have to glean as much information from the Major and Miss Prescott as he could. He was already watching their demeanors. Washington got the feeling he was dealing with a formidable foe, just from looking at Bordon and his "poker face" expression. He'd heard the rumors about "Brutal Bordon", and had his own intelligence officers' reports on the man as well.

"How long has it been," he asked the girl with sincerity.

"We last saw each other over a year ago, in Virginia," she said, her eyes sparkling.

The general went on. "Please, accept my condolences for your family. Your father is sorely missed by many. He was a good man."

"Thank you," she said, dropping her head down, trying to fight tears forming again in her eyes.

"I rejoiced when I heard you were alive!," Washington exclaimed. "I'm very glad to have the opportunity to see you."

Embarrassed, Melanie spoke up. "I apologize for my appearance, General," she said meekly. "It is humiliating to be brought before you in bindings." She held up her wrists for him to see, then rested them back in her lap. The girl looked down in shame.

Feeling for Miss Prescott, General Washington looked over at Major Bordon and tried to hide an accusing look. The Colonial officer opened his mouth to protest her treatment, but could not get the words out before Bordon interjected.

"All prisoners must be bound when outside our perimeters," Bordon stated in a disaffected manner. He chose his words carefully, not wanting to divulge that she was being held at a fort. Bordon reasoned that if Washington had good intelligence men, he probably already knew where she was being held. _But why help him, Bordon thought._ Let him figure it out on his own, or hopefully not be able to.

"It's orders, sir," Bordon continued, with no trace of apology within his voice.

Melanie lifted her eyes, staring blankly at the wall. She mulled Bordon's last words over in her mind. So, she _was_ a prisoner.

The feeling of a large, warm hand gently touching her wrist brought her from her brooding. Raising her eyes, she met those of the General's. He smiled kindly at her.

"Being restrained does not afford one any dignity," he began, sounding so wise, "but might I say that you still carry yourself in a dignified manner, even though a bound prisoner. You have lost no credence in my eyes, Miss."

Melanie thanked him and smiled demurely up at him. Washington reached behind him and grabbed for the chair against the wall. He pulled it up and sat in front of Miss Prescott. Alex Bordon remained standing, as if to keep watch over the situation.

After a long silence, George Washington asked Melanie to tell her exactly what she could remember of the attack and her recovery. She recounted the story of her ordeal to the General, with Bordon filling in the holes of her memory, and stopping her when he thought she was about to say too much.

Washington sat casually and listened intently, his elbow on his thigh and his chin resting upon his hand. He sat quietly and did not interrupt the two of them as they spoke.

He listened carefully to their words, especially Melanie's, trying to discern any information she could be trying to get across to him, perhaps hidden between the lines, disguised in her phrases. Washington hoped that something subtle would be revealed—something that he could share with his intelligence unit.

When the two finished, there was a moment of silence in the room as Washington thought about what he'd just heard. He was filled with sorrow that her father and family were no longer alive, but glad that Hayden Prescott was not around to see his daughter at this moment—bound and being dangled in front of the Colonials as if flaunting the fact that she is in their possession.

Washington broke the silence. "How are they treating you," he asked her, all the while watching her reaction to the question. His eyes first looked to Melanie, then to Alex, watching them both carefully.

Melanie showed no sign of distress at the question. Instead, she looked up at Bordon, her eyes questioning him. Washington supposed that the Major was restricting her answers.

Bordon gave her an encouraging nod, knowing she had no reason to lie, for they had treated her well. Melanie drew in a breath, remembering Bordon's warning to be careful with her answers.

"I am fine, General, I assure you," she answered. "I have my own quarters. They provide well for me in warmth, food, and clothing. I am not made to work. I was rescued by them and taken care of."

She raised her bound wrists once again, displaying them for General Washington. "This is the worst of it," she said, then lowered her arms again. "Other than this, they have treated me well. I can't lie about that."

Washington wasn't sure what to think. His eyes darted quickly from Melanie, then to Alex. Bordon noticed the suspicious look and spoke up.

"I assure you, sir, that she does tell the truth," Bordon remarked. "You see no bruises on her face or body. She is not gaunt from starvation. She looks well, not ill."

Washington looked again at Miss Prescott's face. He could see the look of reassurance in her eyes. No, she wasn't being mistreated, except for being bound. The General smiled and sighed, silently assuring them that he believed what he was told.

After a short silence, General Washington spoke again. "Well, Major, might we discuss terms for her release?"

Bordon raised his eyebrows. "Release?" he questioned. "No, sir. We have her best interests at heart. We rescued her. We feel it's our duty to protect her."

Melanie noted that Bordon's tone of voice in answering the General's request was a strange mixture of respect for a ranking officer, yet mixed with haughtiness. There was also a slight air of taunting as well.

Washington stood up, as if to confront Alex. "Just as I feel it's my duty to see after her. I knew her father well. Therefore it would be fitting for me to make sure she's taken care of."

"She's well cared for in our custody," Bordon pointed out.

The General turned away from the two and held his breath. This British Major was going to put up a fight, he could tell. He figured it wouldn't be easy to get Miss Prescott back in Colonial hands; he thought he'd probably have to give up some high ranking redcoat officer to get her back.

General Washington did feel it his personal duty to get Melanie back onto 'his' side. Even though she came from a well known and pacifistic family, she might still be a powerful symbol to use to his advantage. He reasoned that she would be well used as propaganda against the British. After all, it was the redcoats' word alone and Miss Prescott remembered nothing of the attack. He could have doubt put into the colonists' minds by telling the newspapers that no one witnessed the attack and lived. It would strengthen his cause further and light a fire of revenge under the people, making them wonder if the British—not rebel extremists—were indeed the ones who attacked an innocent pacifist family.

The colonial leader turned back to Bordon. "I'm sure she is, Major," he placated. "But, what would it take to have her back? Wouldn't it be to your advantage to have one of your officers back in her place?"

"Yes," toyed Bordon, "but we are concerned for her welfare. I'm not so sure that she'd be safe in your care. After all, it was extremists of _your_ militia that slaughtered her family."

Melanie remained seated, watching the two officers sparring back in forth. She held her breath and worried as they continued to debate. She was amazed at how well Bordon kept his emotions in check, and could tell that Washington was losing his composure. The girl had known that George Washington could sometimes have a bad temper.

"You strike a low blow Major," he said, his eyes flashing. "Please don't insult my intelligence any further. You care nothing for her well being. She's just a prize to you; another jewel in His Majesty's crown. She and the Prescott name are of value—if only symbolic."

"Touché," Bordon responded calmly. The corners of his lips curled into a slight smile of satisfaction. He had the upper hand and he knew it. He'd accomplished his mission.

Washington knew he'd been toyed with. But he'd tried. Even though he wanted to make sure she was protected and would rather have her back under a Colonial roof, she was only one person. All his efforts and time in this war could not be spent on a pacifist's daughter. There would be other opportunities to get at the British.

Defeated, General Washington regained his composure and made one last effort. "Well, if you won't turn her over to me, Major, would you consider paroling her to her relatives in Gettysburg? After all, her Uncle there is a farmer and has nothing to do with the fighting. I can assure you that she would get into no trouble up there."

"No," answered Bordon. "We feel she's better protected with us."

Washington said nothing back. The silence hung like a thick fog in the room. Melanie sat there, mute. Her thoughts and emotions buzzed inside her head. She was confused, not sure why the exchange had taken place, or what had just happened. It was as if the three were playing a game, but the men didn't bother explaining to her exactly how to play. She was the 'odd man out', trying desperately to follow along.

"Well, if you'll excuse us, Sir," said Bordon, "The men await us. I must get back to them."

"Certainly," conceded Washington. He watched as Bordon helped Melanie to her feet. As she stood, the General stepped over to her and took her bound hands in his. He brought them to his lips and kissed one of them cordially. Then the tall General bent his frame downwards, placed a hand gently on the back of her head, guiding her in a little closer to him, then kissed her head amidst her limp blonde waves. "Good bye, Miss Prescott."

Bordon stood by quietly as General Washington then took Melanie by the shoulders. He gave them a gentle squeeze and looked into her eyes, wanting to impart some fatherly advice. Melanie looked back at him intently. The girl tried desperately to show a subtle look of "please help me" in her eyes and face.

"Take care of yourself," said Washington in a quiet voice full of concern. "Always be watchful...and trust no one." With that, he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.

Her eyes now registered fear, for the General's words had filled her with newfound apprehension for the British. His advice made her feel as if she could not even trust the men who'd saved her life and nursed her back to health.

Bordon bowed his head to the General and took Miss Prescott's arm. He led her out of the room and into the hallway. After a few steps, Melanie looked back over her shoulder to find General Washington watching her being led away.

"Good bye, General," she called back to him in a nervous voice. She wondered if she was a lamb being led to the slaughter. What was she in for?


	13. Chapter 13 A Pawn

Chapter 13 A Pawn

The group of three Dragoons rode calmly away from General Washington's makeshift headquarters, due to rendezvous with the other Dragoons back at the spot where they'd spent the night. Melanie was seated in front of Major Bordon on his horse.

She was silent as she contemplated what had just happened. As she tried to make sense of the meeting with General Washington, she slowly burned. Melanie remembered the General's words about how she was just another jewel in the crown of His Majesty. The girl realized that part of Major Bordon's job was playing games with the enemy, and he had just played her as his game piece.

No longer able to hold her tongue, Melanie spoke up. "You used me."

"Yes. I did," Bordon answered curtly.

"I'm not a trophy," Melanie protested in a low voice. "You can't just parade me about in front of whomever you please to entice them into trades, information—"

"I had no intentions of trading you for anything", interrupted Major Bordon. "We were merely flaunting you."

"Flaunting me," Melanie exclaimed as she turned her body back to look at the officer. "I'm not a prize, Major." She was incensed.

"Oh, yes you are," Bordon corrected. "A very valuable one at that."

"This is humiliating," she argued. "You can't treat me like this!"

"Yes we can and we will," retorted Major Bordon. "You'd better get used to it. This is war, Miss Prescott. All is fair in war."

"That's 'love and war'," Melanie shot back.

Alex Bordon laughed. "Well, I try not to dally with the love aspect."

Melanie deplored his arrogance. She wanted to make it clear to him that she did not want him to 'display' her again.

"I'll speak to Lord Cornwallis or General O'Hara," she threatened. "They are gentlemen-even though some of their officers aren't!"

Alexander laughed. "_They_ are the ones who authorized us to use you in this way—rather 'flaunt' you, as you put it."

Miss Prescott said nothing back to this remark for the moment, fearing that her moth would get her into trouble. She sighed and shook her head almost inperceptively.

The Major sneered. "They may appear as gentlemen, but the truth is...they are fighting a war. They have men behind them doing the dirty work so that they don't soil their hands or reputations."

"Dirty work?" asked Melanie.

"Yes," Bordon replied. "The nasty little things they discreetly order—"

"That you carry out," she accused. Melanie became indignant. "Well, I won't be used in this humiliating manner again!"

"Yes you will," snapped Alex, frustrated with Melanie's attempt at defiance. He put the girl in her place. "You'll be paraded about and flaunted before many more of your countrymen before this is all done." He paused a moment, then added ominously, "And you'll be used in any manner we see fit!"

Although shaken by the Major's words, she continued her protest. "You can't put me on display."

"I have my orders, Miss Prescott, and they are not to be argued."

Melanie knew she was defeated and became quiet and humbled. She turned back to face the front again, watching the countryside pass around her as she rode on the officer's horse.

After a few moments of silence, Melanie found the courage to speak again. In a low voice laced with surrender, she relented, "If you're going to parade me about, at least treat me with some dignity and untie me."

"Absolutely not," snorted Bordon. "You cannot be trusted so you will be bound. Your own recent actions have made you a prisoner."

Melanie turned back around to face the front. The Major's words stuck her hard. Her throat constricted with shame as she cast her eyes downward. She sat mute, dumbstruck by the reality that she would be with the British throughout the remainder of the war.

Hope was lost as she pondered never seeing her home again or any of her relatives until after the war. She burned at the musings of something she could not change.

Once, she was the member of a prominent family, noble in their morals and honored by both the British and the Colonists. Now, she had become a pawn in the war between the two sides, an important figure and propagandist symbol, valuable to both factions. To the British, she was no more than a game token to be called in and used any way and at any time they pleased.

So she sat on Bordon's horse, bound and quiet...and her heart sank.

~/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/~

An hour later Major Bordon's small contingent arrived back at the encampment. The site was bare now; all the fires had been put out, tents and provisions packed up. The infantry section that had been with them had moved out awhile earlier leaving the cavalry to wait for their commander to return.

The Dragoons, near their horses and ready to ride, watched Bordon and the others come into the camp. Major Bordon could see that the men's horses were already packed with the men's belongings. He looked around and also saw that the men had collapsed and folded his and the other men's tent. They were left laying in neat piles near each soldier's packing and haversacks.

"Alright, men," Bordon began as he dismounted his horse, "we'll take a few moments to get our baggage packed on the horses, then we leave. So don't go far."

The other men dismounted as Bordon walked back over to his horse. He reached his strong arms up to Miss Prescott, still seated on the horse. Still with hands tied, she awkwardly reached for his arms as she leaned over. She slid off the horse and into the Major's arms. He carried her over to a stump and sat her down on it. A small tree grew just beside this stump. Alex reached in the back on his belt and felt for the rope he'd looped around it. Pulling it out from behind him, he repositioned Melanie a quarter of a turn to where she was now facing the small tree. Alex Bordon pulled her bound wrists upward and twisted the loose rope about and between her wrists. Then he pulled her wrists up to where they rest against the tree as he lashed the rope about the small tree trunk to hold Melanie there, suspecting that she might try to run away again. He couldn't trust her.

After a few minutes, the group took to horse again, making their way back to Fort Carolina. In two hours or so, the band of cavalry stopped for a break and a late lunch.

Melanie ate only a small amount; she'd lost her appetite. She sat close to the small cooking fire they'd made, still bound at the wrists but fortunately not lashed to a tree. A dragoon was tending the fire nearby.

As she leaned back against the tree, the girl looked around at the activity. Major Bordon was writing in his diary; another soldier was occupied at the stream watering the horses. Near Melanie the private went about tending the fire as two of his fellow soldiers were finishing their meals. She turned her head again and watched as two of the dragoons chatted with each other and still another man dozed in the shade of a tree.

To her, they all seemed distracted. The wheels in her mind started to turn. Bound and determined that she would not be humiliated again, she formulated a quick plan.

Melanie got to her feet and walked over to the two privates that were conversing. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but I need to relieve myself," she requested meekly.

The men stopped talking and looked at her. Then one of them spoke up.

"I'll take you," Private Perkins volunteered.

Melanie took another quick glance around at the other dragoons, appearing nonchalant. All the men were still occupied and distracted.

Perkins took her arm gently and guided her to a small clearing. She thanked him for the courtesy of turning his back, allowing her privacy. Then she stepped behind a large tree.

Miss Prescott spied some pebbles and two fist size stones on the ground near where she stood. She lifted her skirt, purposely rustling it so that the guard could hear her squatting down. Melanie picked up the pebbles in one hand and a stone in the other. She raised her head up, craning her neck to look in front of her.

With the soldier's back still turned, Melanie heaved the stone high into the air, over her captor's head. It landed in the woods in front of him, rustling the brush. She watched his reaction.

He flinched and looked in the direction of the noise, but stayed still, shrugging the noise off. When she saw him ease, she palmed the other stone and threw it in the same direction again. It landed slightly to the front left of the man with a thud. The soldier jumped this time, pulling his weapon.

Melanie feigned fright. "Oh! What was that?" She sounded convincingly worried.

"An animal, I think," Perkins answered, scanning the brush cautiously with his eyes. "Hurry up!"

"Yes sir," she obeyed.

Still squatting, she picked up a handful of the pebbles and flung them over the private's head. They rained down on the trees and brush crazily in all directions, making scattered noises.

Perkins raised his gun and cocked the trigger.

Melanie kept up her ruse. "Private!" she called out in mock fear.

He turned back to look at her, finding her standing straight up, looking genuinely scared.

"Shhhh," he commanded. "Quiet!"

Spotting a large dead tree branch to her side, she leaned over and picked it up. She tossed it into the air. It hit high up in the top of a nearby tree, then bounced against the trunk, and careened downward through the foliage. It made a different and more peculiar noise, one that made the dragoon highly suspicious. He thought for sure that someone was hiding up one of the trees.

Once again, Private Perkins turned back to Melanie. He whispered, "Stay here. Get down."

Miss Prescott nodded her head mutely, her eyes wide with the guise of fear. The girl did as she was told and crouched down. With her bound hands, she picked up yet another stone.

As the soldier strode away from his spot to investigate the sound, she pitched this rock as far as she could into the brush in front of the man. His head whipped to the right at the noise. She watched him attentively as he stalked toward the newest sound.

Keeping an eye on the private as she crouched, she gathered her skirt up and laid it over her left arm after she worked it through her tethered wrists. Melanie did this to free her legs as she ran and to prevent her thick petticoats from rustling.

When Miss Prescott could see that the man was thoroughly absorbed with his search, she crawled behind some nearby bushes. Seeing that the private was still busy, she slid quietly behind another large tree only a step away.

After another moment, the young woman padded quietly to another tree a few feet beyond. Eyeing some brush a few yards past that, she slinked over to the patch, crouching as she did. She was now farther away from the soldier, but close enough still to keep an eye on his doings.

Melanie made her way to freedom, inching quietly from tree to bush to boulder, slipping quietly through the woods. She had decided it was best to stay calm, moving slowly and cautiously. The girl didn't want to take the chance of making excess noise by running.

Soon, she came to a glade. After a last look back over her shoulder at Private Perkins, only the red of his jacket visible now, she darted across the clearing and disappeared into a thicket.

~/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/~

Major Alex Bordon's reaction to the news of Miss Prescott's disappearance was nothing more than a frustrated sigh. He had become accustomed to her willfulness.

The officer dispatched his men to comb the woods for her. He walked to the edge of the woods as he pondered her value to the British. While she may be useful to him in the ways of gaining some information, he wondered if her name was truly worth the trouble. Alex thought that his time as an intelligence officer could be spent in better ways rather than chasing a stubborn girl.

As Bordon stewed, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned quickly to look at the clearing just beyond the next patch of woods. Squinting, he saw the red and green of a dragoon jacket. He knew that it could be one of his men, but it might also be Miss Prescott. She had been given a Dragoon riding coat—an extra, until a lady's coat could be obtained for her.

Bordon extended his long glass and looked toward the motion. His lips curved up into a smile, for the brush was not thick enough to obscure the figure of Miss Melanie.

He did not call for the others. Instead, he headed quietly toward her hiding place in a circuitous route, taking the chance that either he or one of his men would get to her before she fled again.

~/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/~

In the thicket, Melanie crouched down. She wished she could lose the cavalry jacket she wore, feeling as though it stuck out like a sore thumb. And the royal blue of her skirt did not help matters.

Thinking about what to do next, she turned while still hidden and scanned the forest about her. She desperately tried to find a cave opening or even some large boulders that she could squeeze between. Seeing nothing of the sort, she let out an inaudible sigh. Melanie simply had to get away; she refused to go back with the British and be paraded about.

Through the trees, she saw the edge of a field. She spotted what looked like a debris pile at the end of it. Melanie reasoned that if she could get to the field, she could wriggle beneath the pile, covering herself in the leaves, hay, or whatever it was. She knew there might be a snake or rodents within, but she would chance this for freedom.

Melanie stood up straight and hesitated a moment. She stepped behind a large tree adjacent to where she'd been hiding, then listened for the soldiers. Their shouts were distant, so the girl figured she might have just enough time to make a dash to the field.

Peering around the tree cautiously she took a last look for her captors. Seeing nothing, she turned back to run but was stopped in her tracks. She gasped in fright as she felt the cold metal of a pistol pressed to her right temple.

"Going somewhere, Miss Prescott?" Bordon asked snidely.

The young woman was paralyzed with fear. Unable to move, she held her breath and squeezed her eyes tightly shut, not wishing to see the weapon aimed at her head.

Bordon, still holding the gun, continued his taunting. "My sources tell me this area is full of those rebel extremists who killed your family. Although you're not adequately prepared to defend yourself against them, don't let me stand in your way."

Melanie, mute with fright, opened her eyes and looked at the officer. When she did not answer him or make no attempt to run, he scoffed, "I thought not."

"Don't," she pleaded hoarsely, "_Please."_

The Major lowered his weapon, grabbed Miss Prescott's arm roughly and yanked her away from the tree. She winced in pain as he did. Bordon tilted his gun up and away from her, then cocked it, as if to show that he was serious. He turned her back around roughly, facing back toward the camp. The Major raised his arm and fired the gun off over his head.

"I've found her!" he called, alerting the others. He looked down at Melanie, who was trembling.

"I suggest you accompany me back to my horse," he warned crossly. Miss Prescott complied, knowing he was furious with her.

As he hustled her back to the encampment, he did not hide his anger. "I'm getting tired of your little game, Miss Prescott." He jerked her arm as if to punctuate his words. "We've got a war to fight. His Majesty's army does not have the time to chase after a stubborn little colonial wench!"

Melanie was embarrassed and said nothing. She was scared that she might be punished for this latest offense.

At Major Bordon's horse, he yanked the girl around to look at him. She looked up at him timidly as he glared down at her.

With all seriousness, he scolded her. "You should be grateful to us! We saved your life! We sheltered you at the fort! Grow up, little girl, and show your rescuers some manners and respect!"

~/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/~

After a long, silent ride, Melanie was both relieved_ and_ worried to see the fort come into sight. She would be happy to soon be out of the Major's company, knowing that she was the cause of his anger. But she feared what would happen to her when the Generals were told that she ran away again.

Within a few moments they had crossed the fort's threshold. Melanie then found herself being ushered into the main house by Major Bordon.

He pulled her along with him straight to Lord Cornwallis' office, where the door was open. Bordon peered in and saw Generals O'Hara and Cornwallis looking at some maps with Colonel Tavington.

Major Bordon cleared his throat and caught the officer's eyes. The three of them looked surprised as a clearly frustrated Bordon came into view holding Miss Prescott before him.

"She tried to escape—AGAIN!", raged Bordon. He was fuming and looking for justification. "This makes attempt number three!"

"Blast!" Cornwallis swore in frustration. "Take her to General O'Hara's office, then come back and speak with us, Major. I'll deal with her after we've talked."

"Yes sir," Bordon obeyed. He gave Melanie a slight push, then hurried her down the hallway and into O'Hara's office. She was made to sit down and told not to move. A private was grabbed from the corridor to watch her.

Bordon left the girl in his care and stalked back down the hallway to Cornwallis' officer. Just after he re-entered, a private followed him in. Before Alex could address his superiors, the private chimed in.

"Begging your pardon, Lord Cornwallis," he began, "but there is a loyalist man here to see you."

Cornwallis rolled his eyes, feeling as if he was getting nowhere in his work today. "Really! Must I continually be disturbed?," he swore in frustration.

The private was taken aback, but spoke soon again. "He wanted to talk with you about offering his house and lands to—"

"Yes, alright," interrupted Cornwallis. "I'll be right there."

The soldier turned and hurried out of the room. The Lord General rose from his chair and began his trek to the door, leaving the three officers looking at one another in question.

"Gentleman," he said over his shoulder to the men, "We'll continue this later. General O'Hara, take care of this please."

"Yes sir," he complied, knowing he referred to the problem of Miss Prescott.

After Lord Cornwallis left the room, Bordon stepped forward. "May I speak frankly, sir," he asked. Tavington and O'Hara could tell that the Major was straining to keep his words in control. They knew he was mad.

General O'Hara offered him a chair. As Alex sat down, William gave him permission. "Speak your heart, Bordon."

"Sir, I question the value of that young woman," he stated in a clipped tone.

"You surprise me, Major," Tavington declared. "You agreed straightaway when we rescued her that she would be valuable—if at least for propaganda or bait."

"Yes," Bordon remembered, "but I think she may be more trouble than what she is worth! Is she truly _that _valuable? I mean, the time with her is ill spent. If we're going to chase someone, I'd rather go after someone of military importance rather than running after some dead pacifist's daughter!"

O'Hara leaned forward in his chair and spoke up. "Major, the Lord General feels personally responsible for her well being because he knew her father and held him in such high esteem."

"Then maybe he should banish her to England or some nearby plantation he has confiscated," Bordon blurted out. After letting escape a sigh of frustration, he continued. "He feels responsible for her. So does General Washington and every other prominent officer and politician on this side of the ocean. But they all expect _us _to play nursemaid to her!"

"Major, please remember who you are addressing," he said sharply, correcting the impetuous remark.

"Forgive me, sir," he apologized. "It's just that we're in the middle of a war. We're short on weapons, soldiers, and time. The men are stretched as it is. We must spend our time fighting. We don't have the luxury of time to go after Miss Prescott at her whims."

From there, Major Bordon went on to brief his two commanders as to the incident with Melanie. They listened respectfully, trying to discern what the underlying problem might be with the girl. When Bordon was done, O'Hara spoke again.

"Be assured, Major, that we understand all that you've said and your feelings toward the rather obstinate Miss Prescott," he quelled. "The problem will be addressed and taken care of. In fact, let us go to see her right now."

With that, the three officers left the room. Bordon followed his superiors down the hall, back to O'Hara's office, where Melanie was being held.

In the room, she sat alone, wringing her hands in her lap. She was still bound at the wrists. She wondered what had transpired in Lord Cornwallis' office, fearing the outcome of the conversation with Bordon. Melanie wondered what he may have told them and if he'd embellished it any for his benefit.

As she heard the doorknob turn, she swiveled in her chair and looked toward the door. When Tavington, O'Hara, and Bordon entered, she feared the worst, thinking she was really in trouble this time. She gulped, trying unsuccessfully to hide her angst.

Bordon and Tavington stood and O'Hara seated himself behind his own desk, facing Melanie. "Miss Prescott," he began in a firm tone, "Need I go into this again with you: why you're here?"

"No," she answered quietly. "I've been told over and over again."

"Then why would you want to run away," asked O'Hara. "There is a war on. Houses are being burned. People are starving. Loyalists are being hanged. Rebels are hiding all about us. Why won't you just wait the war out here? You have protection, warmth, food, clothing, a roof over your head, a bed to sleep in, which is more than a lot of your countrymen have right now. No harm is going to come to you. Miss, you should accept our hospitality graciously."

"Hospitality?" she retorted, forgetting that she was speaking to a General. "Is that what you call it? I'm nothing more than a prisoner."

"No," O'Hara answered calmly, refusing to show emotion to this woman. "You are our guest."

"But I am treated as a captive," she argued.

"You are a guest with limited privileges," O'Hara cajoled.

"You tell me I'm a guest and protected, then you treat me like a prisoner," she retorted. "I am no better than the colonists out there in your cages." She looked out the window, referring to the prison camp, as she said it.

"To them," O'Hara corrected, "you are a living symbol of the pacifist principles your father embodied. You are the legacy of the man that some wished to annihilate."

Bordon spoke up. "Maybe you have a reason to run," he accused. "Maybe she is hiding something." He felt he should point that out to his superiors. As an intelligence officer, he was always trying to second guess people and stay one step ahead of them, anticipating their next moves or their underlying motives.

"Your 'prisoner' hides nothing," she sassed.

Tavington entered the conversation. "Well, Miss Prescott, since you like the term 'prisoner' so well, then consider yourself a prisoner with special privileges."

"That should go over well with her compatriots in the pens," Bordon jeered.

"A prisoner is still a prisoner, no matter what you call it," Melanie exclaimed with defiance, "'Guest', 'prisoner', 'slave', 'whore', 'servant'—it's all the same. I am still a captive to something."

"It is for your protection," Tavington shot back, wishing to defend his Generals.

"And for _your _benefit," she declared, showing them that she knew they were using her and her family's name in this war. She wished to let them know that she was wise to some of the underhanded ways of war, and that she may be used for good or sinister purposes.

All three of the officers were getting angrier with her insults, not wanting to acknowledge that she was right: that they were using her, and not always for honorable means. Yet, in return for her use, she did get to stay in the fort, was cared for and protected, and had the necessities of life—with some privilege. For that, they thought, she should be grateful and owed them as much.

"Would you rather be in the stockade," Tavington pointed out, narrowing his eyes at her.

"I might as well be," she bravely shot back. She was just as frustrated with her perceived situation of imprisonment as they were with her continual and ridiculous escape attempts.

"That can be arranged!" Bordon retorted.

"Hold your tongue, Major," O'Hara warned. This had gone far enough and he wasn't about to let it get out of hand into a shouting match—especially one with a woman.

"Miss Prescott," O'Hara began, "I must insist that you are still a guest here, but that for security purposes—yours and ours—and because there is a war on, that we cannot let you roam about as freely as you'd like. But do you really want to lose what privilege and freedom you do have?"

The men were quiet as Melanie thought. As much as she hated to admit it, the men were right. She was luckier than most of the Colonials outside the gates of the fort. She knew many of them that didn't fare so well.

General O'Hara continued with his lecture. "You are from a plantation. Warm weather is here. You, of anyone, must want to bask in the warm breeze. You would lose that freedom if you were sent to a prison ship or such."

_Oh, no, she thought. They wouldn't really send me to one of those prison ships anchored off our shores. They are worse than Hell. Men die there! _

"This is your last warning, Miss Prescott," O'Hara pointed out in no uncertain terms. "Try anything again and you will be confined indefinitely to your room or remanded to a prison camp. It will be up to the Lord General to decide."

After dismissing the three of them from his office in favor of work, O'Hara closed his door. He hoped this was the last he'd hear from Miss Prescott for awhile.

Outside the door, Will volunteered to escort Melanie back to her room, giving the worn out Bordon a much needed reprieve from the willful young lady.

Tavington walked the girl up the stairs and to her quarters. He tried to talk some sense into her as they went along.

"Miss Prescott, I advise you to think your actions through carefully before you perpetrate them. You're being labeled as a troublemaker."

She said nothing back to him. At her door, she raised her hands, silently asking him to unbind them.

He hesitated before untying her, saying, "Do I have your word that you won't run again? I'm not going to let you go until I do."

"Yes," she relented.

Tavington cut her bonds loose. She rubbed her wrists as he opened the door to her room. She stepped inside without saying anything.

"I hope you're not just bluffing," stated William. "For if talk gets around that you broke your word, it would hurt your family's name and legacy. And your father is not here to defend that. You don't want to have a reputation, do you?" He was trying to make her feel guilty and learn to be responsible for her actions.

Melanie was silent a moment, but she could not deny that the Colonel was right. It would be dishonorable to the Prescott name if it should get around that she did not keep an agreement. And, after all, her father was known for keeping his word. That is what made him such a trusted and honored figure, loved and admired by many on both sides. No—she would not dishonor her family.

"I won't run again," she gave in. "I promise."


	14. Chapter 14 Sharing Secrets

Chapter 14 Sharing Secrets

All the inhabitants of the Fort seemed to be enjoying the warm May afternoon. So much so, that when Melanie Prescott and Miss Bridget Kilpatrick stepped outside the main house, all the benches and chairs scattered about were full. The two strolled, conversing as they did while looking for a place to sit and relax. The two ladies soon found an empty bench against the fence of the Colonial Prisoner's compound. It wasn't a choice spot, but it was a place to sit outside nonetheless.

Melanie and Bridget seated themselves. They looked about at the activity. Two sentries guarding the compound gate were close by. Behind them on the other side of the fence, a prisoner pulled weeds around the fence row. The ladies continued their conversation.

"Well, I am glad that you're free now," Melanie said to Miss Kilpatrick. Bridget had just gained her freedom, having served her indentured servitude term. Melanie was happy for her. "What will you do now?"

"The house mistress has retained me as a nurse and house servant here," she replied, "so I'll serve out the rest of the war working for His Majesty!"

"Then what will you do?" Melanie inquired.

"Stay here and be a servant for a rich family, I suppose," answered Bridget. "There's nothing for me in Ireland. Most of my relatives are gone now."

Melanie looked down when she said that, feeling a pang of sorrow for herself. She marveled at Bridget's similar situation: both young ladies were in strange surroundings with no relatives. She admired Bridget's courage in leaving her home country in search of a better life, and how brave she was to stay here alone after the war, making her own way. Melanie realized that one day when the war was done, she would have to pick up the pieces of her own life and go on some way.

Bridget looked at Melanie and knew her words had made the girl think of her own sad situation. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for my words to cause you pain."

"No," Melanie said. "It's alright. It will never be the same without them, but everyone tells me that time will ease the pain."

"Yes—it will."

Melanie went on. "If only Peter were still alive. We'd have been married by now, and I would have at least had a husband to return to."

"You called his name a few times when you were so sick," informed Bridget. "When did he die—and how?"

Melanie took a deep breath, then answered. "He's been gone a little over a year now. He was killed by British soldiers. Peter was in the Colonial army."

Melanie looked around, as if not wanting anyone to hear her next words. She lowered her voice and continued. "He was a spy for the Colonies. He worked under General Washington. He posed as a Loyalist in the British army. He wore the Redcoat uniform, gained their trust. I found out by accident that he was a spy when I found some British maps and a red uniform coat in his haversack. That was only a few weeks before he died. I worried about him crossing back and forth between the lines, and if he might be found out."

Bridget listened attentively. She had overheard the officers talking one evening and knew from this that Miss Prescott had a fiancé that had died. The Irish girl did not want to be the one to bring up the subject in conversation.

Pausing for an instant, Melanie sighed. She continued. "Well, it was found out that Peter was a colonial spy. The British soldiers imprisoned him for a few days. Then, he was hanged. The grief from his death was horrible. I was just starting to get back to normal when my family died."

Miss Kilpatrick took Melanie's hand and gave it a squeeze, wanting to offer her encouragement and support. Miss Prescott smiled at the servant, silently thanking her. Bridget did not press Melanie for details of his death, yet she didn't want to be blatantly obvious and avoid the subject altogether. She would take the conversation in a subtle, new direction.

"There are many handsome and eligible men in the fort," commented Bridget.

"Yes, there are," Melanie agreed, almost becoming embarrassed.

"Some of the officers come from wealth," Miss Kilpatrick pointed out. "Good catches, I should say."

Melanie's mood lifted and she suddenly felt playful. "Who do you think is most handsome?" She had become close to Bridget and trusted her enough to talk silliness of this sort with her.

"Colonel Tarleton, of course," she replied, " and Captain Wilkins."

"Oh, Jim Wilkins," Melanie smiled. "Our family did business with his. We lived in the same area. They are loyalists."

Bridget smiled. She was glad that Melanie's grief was easing enough to let her participate in silly girl talk.

"Who do you find most attractive?" asked Bridget.

"Hmmmm," Melanie paused and thought, then spoke, blushing as she did. "I think….. Colonel Tavington… and…. Major Bordon."

Miss Kilpatrick bristled. "Ooh. The two worst tempered officers here."

"You're right about that!," exclaimed Miss Prescott. Both young women laughed hysterically, grabbing on to one another's arms and the bench trying not to fall off of it.

The ladies tried to settle down and act prim and proper when they noticed that passersby were looking sideways at them. The two finally settled down and sat back up straight. Miss Prescott cleared her throat, then continued on in a serious tone.

"Oh, I'm not sure about that," Melanie disagreed. "They are just very focused on their duties. After all, we are at war."

"Neither of them seem very nice," Bridget commented.

"Well, they are commanders," Melanie defended, "and I know they are under pressure from the Generals to win battles."

There was a lull in the conversation as the two women paused. They watched the sentries as they were relieved at their post for a late lunch. They continued the conversation.

Bridget spoke first. "Do you fancy any of the soldiers here?"

Melanie began to blush and did not answer. Instead, she looked around, not wanting anyone to hear her answer. She smiled timidly. "Yes."

"Who?"

"I can't say," Melanie refused, flushing with embarrassment.

"Tell tale," Bridget urged playfully.

Taking a breath of courage, Miss Prescott answered her. "Major Bordon."

Bridget frowned. "Stay away from those Dragoons," she warned.

"But you like Jim Wilkins," Melanie objected.

"I think he's handsome," she corrected. "That doesn't mean I want to have a go at him. Besides, all the men seem to have on their minds now is war, not romance."

Melanie was curious. "You said to stay away from the Dragoons. Why?"

Bridget leaned in close to Miss Prescott, as if to impart something that wasn't proper. "Because there are rumors that they take advantage of female hostages, villagers, and prisoners, not to mention Loyalist women and camp followers."

"No," Melanie said, astonished.

"Yes," confirmed Bridget. "They just want a roll in the hay. Some of them have left by blows behind them here in the colonies. It is also said that some of them have bastards here in the camps. So, stay away from them."

Melanie said nothing, digesting what the servant had just said. She remembered that the three extremists from the prison camp that had coerced her into her first escape had told her the same thing. But she had been told by the British that what those men had said were cruel lies. She wasn't sure what or who to believe.

"Oh girl, haven't you heard what the locals call the cavalry commanders?"

Melanie shook her head 'no.'

"They've given them horrid names," Bridget proclaimed, " Names like 'Brutal Bordon' and 'Bloody Tarleton'. And Tavington is known as 'the Butcher'. I've heard they invented the names with good reason."

Melanie swallowed hard. She hadn't heard many of the rumors since she was often sheltered in her room. She knew Bridget spent a lot more time out and around the fort mixing with all classes of people from both sides in this war. Once again, Miss Prescott was left feeling mixed up when hearing talk of the officers.

Bridget went on. "Major Bordon is ruthless, I hear."

"I like him," Melanie said simply in a quiet voice.

"Oh missy, missy," Bridget protested. "You must stop this nonsense right away."

"I can't," replied Melanie whimsically. "I sometimes feel hopelessly lost when I look at him or think of him."

"It _will _be hopeless if he ever finds out," Bridget remarked. "He'll only use you."

Melanie wanted to say that they were already using her in a strategic military and intelligence way, but knew that she couldn't reveal this. Plus she saw that the men had their pick of beautiful women in and around the area. She didn't think that Bordon cared too much for colonists. And, she had spent a chaste night with him in his tent. He did not even attempt a pass at her. Melanie didn't think he was interested romantically in her.

She spoke up, disagreeing with Bridget. "No, I don't believe he would use me in that manner. I don't think he's like that."

~/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/~

"A colonial prisoner called Smithers is asking to see you, sir."

"Oh, bloody Hell," swore Major Bordon. He stood there in the hallway for a moment, leaned against the wall and rubbed his tired eyes. The private waited quietly for instructions.

Alex was exhausted; he'd been on a combined intelligence mission and extended patrol all night long. On the way back to the fort this morning, they seized a cabin of colonials suspected of giving aid to the rebels, and took prisoners. All Bordon wanted to do now was crawl into his bed and sleep.

After a moment the fog of exhaustion lifted from his mind. He knew this man to be his informant in the prison camp. He probably had some trivial bit of information to share that would waste time, but Alex knew he'd better see him anyway.

"Alright," Bordon relented. "Bring him to my room and stay just outside the door."

"Yes sir."

Within a few minutes, Major Bordon was back in his room when he heard a knock at the door. He ushered the prisoner Smithers, an older Colonial, in and closed the door behind them.

Smithers was a thin, almost sickly man, that had lost his cabin in the war. He'd helped the rebels by using his small unassuming home as a point to pick up and drop off information. He'd been caught by the British and imprisoned for the remainder of the war, his property confiscated by His Majesty. Mr. Smithers now worked for the British with the promise of gaining back some of his lost property.

"I have some information you might be eager to hear," the prisoner stated.

"Hmph! I'm not eager for anything right now," Bordon retorted.

"You told me to let you know—"

"Yes, Yes," Alex waved him off, "Well, out with it and get to the point quickly. I'm tired."

"One of your lady prisoners fancies an officer."

Alex laughed and shook his head dismissively. "Romantic inclinations," he scoffed.

"Maybe you could use it against her?"

The officer knew Smithers was right. One of his best tactics was to play romance and love to his advantage. It was a weakness shared by many people.

"Very well. Who is it?" questioned Alex.

"The girl that is kept here in the house," he answered. "That pacifist's daughter."

Bordon seemed to perk up. He _did _want to hear this. "Go on," he coaxed. "And who is it she fancies?"

"You," replied Smithers.

The Major could not believe his ears. He thought it was a joke; a ploy by Smithers to get something. Alex was mad, feeling his time had been wasted.

Quickly, he grabbed the colonial by his coat and put him against the wall. The man did not fight Bordon; he'd seen the officer's rage before.

With clenched jaw and narrowed eyes, Bordon warned, "You best not be lying."

"I'm not," exclaimed Smithers. "I heard her tell that Irish servant girl—the one that works in the house and the surgery tents. Why those two are thick as thieves, they are!"

Alexander turned the man loose and backed away. He knew that Miss Prescott kept company with Miss Kilpatrick, so the man must be telling the truth.

Bordon was curious. "How? When?" the Major inquired.

Smithers answered. "Just two hours ago. The two of them were sitting on that bench by the prisoner's compound. I was pulling weeds along the fence row and heard them talking." The man then went on to describe the rest of the conversation—as much as he heard—to Bordon. The officer was intrigued, to say the least.

"Thank you, Smithers," he said, his blue eyes twinkling ominously. He tossed a coin to the man, then opened the door.

"Private, get him an officer's meal from the kitchens," he ordered, "and escort him back to the prisoner compound after he's eaten."

"Yes, sir," the young private obeyed.

Major Bordon then threw his last bottle of confiscated apple wine to Smithers. "For services rendered," he quipped.

The informant bowed his head in thanks and hurried off with the private.

An hour passed and Bordon was in his bed, trying to fall asleep after a night's mission. He tossed and turned in the darkened room. He was so physically exhausted, yet his mind was wide awake. The revelation of his informant, Smithers, skittered through his mind. Thinking of how Miss Prescott liked him led him back through thoughts of his past.

Alex turned over onto his back. He threw his arm up across his face, as if trying to shield his eyes from memories in the dark. To no avail; they came anyway.

His mind carried him back to his coming of age at 15. He had fallen in love with Christine, a girl from his childhood. She lived on the neighboring estate in Surrey, England. The two had played together as children, and had grown up together.

It took Alex nearly 2 years to get up the courage to ask to court her. When he finally did, at age 17, Christine refused, saying honestly that she thought of him as a friend or surrogate brother. She had no romantic notions toward him. The young Alex was crushed. Trying to flee his broken heart, it was then that he bought a commission in the cavalry. Even though in the service, he still pined for her. Service to His Majesty, and time took away most of the pain, but not the stinging memory of it.

And then, at age 19, Bordon had been posted to London. He met Mary there. She was a beautiful young debutante from a wealthy family. Alex, then a Lieutenant, met her at an officer's ball. He courted Mary for two years, then became engaged to her. This pleased her family for they wanted her to marry wealth, and the Bordons had a decent fortune. The couple could never seem to agree on a wedding date. Then, Mary abruptly broke off the betrothal. Alex found out that he had a rival suitor. This man was much richer than Bordon and not a soldier. Mary would not have to worry about a soldier husband straying or getting killed. The man she chose for a husband was older, well connected in society, and a Member of Parliament. In the end, Mary had been more interested in money and prestige than love. Alexander Bordon was once again left with a broken heart.

Whenever home in Surrey on leave, Bordon often ventured into the nearby village to visit a pub with his friends. When he was 22, he met a girl there. Jane was from a poor shopkeeper's family. She worked in the store with other members of her family. Talk was that she 'worked' at another job, helping herself out financially in a 'questionable' way. Bordon's friends called her the town tart.

Alex had bedded the girl a few times—as had a lot of other local men. Jane found herself pregnant. Needing support and wanting to avoid scandal, she set about getting a husband. She set her sights on young Alexander Bordon, the wealthiest man she'd been with around the time of her conception. Truth was, she had no idea who the father was.

Jane told her parents that Lieutenant Bordon had seduced her and made her pregnant. The shopkeeper, incensed by this, confronted Bordon one day while he was in town, making a disgraceful scene. Word of this traveled about and caused a sensation. Rumor soon made its way to the Bordon estate, embarrassing Alex's family. Mr. Bordon asked his son of it, and he said simply that she was a girl of questionable reputation that had gotten herself into trouble.

Mr. Bordon was happy with his son's explanation—until the shopkeeper paid a visit to the Bordon's estate. The man demanded marriage to Alex Bordon to help his daughter and redeem his reputation. Bordon's father tried to make Alex marry her, threatening to disinherit him if he didn't. Alex flatly refused, defying his father. He told him to do what he must, but that he was not about to marry a strumpet who'd been with every man in town; he did not intend to be a father to a bastard that wasn't his, even if it meant losing his inheritance.

Mr. Bordon relented, knowing his son would not have renounced his inheritance if it wasn't true. But, it still caused much scandal for both families. A bit of a wedge had been driven between Alex and his father. He would always remember the scathing words as his father admonished him: "If you would have kept your breeches up and ridden your horse instead of the village trollop, then you wouldn't be in this predicament!"

And then there was Paulette. After Christine, Mary, and Jane, yet another woman would cause him pain. At age 23, Alex Bordon courted Paulette in an unhurried fashion; he was not about to stumble into love again so quickly. He would take his time and make sure things went right this time. But, their relationship deteriorated from bad, to worse, to disastrous. It was full of distrust and deceit. He didn't even want to think about it. Alex shuddered as he clamped his eyes tightly closed, willing it from his mind.

Opening his eyes, he looked up at the ceiling. Long ago, after Paulette, he had vowed that he would never again let another woman have the upper hand. In fact, he was through with love. And though he found Miss Prescott attractive, he resolved _not_ to fall in love with her. After all, he thought, if she was anything like the women of his past, then she was no better than them. He was highly suspicious of all women, thinking them all manipulative whores who used men to get something they wanted: love, money, position in society, children. In his eyes, none of them could be trusted.

Alexander Bordon was a slave to the unfortunate events of his past, and held those as a precedent for the future.


	15. Chapter 15 Bordon At His Finest

Chapter 15 Bordon At His Finest

A group of men and women congregated around a militiaman in the Rebel compound at Fort Carolina. He had only been in the compound for a month and already had a reputation as arrogant and a braggart. His name was Davis, a former Colonial officer of low ranking.

The crowd listened as he told of his militia exploits and complained of the Rebel's treatment at the hands of the British. He loudly proclaimed his zealot principles as if trying to mesmerize potential followers. After awhile of this, he turned his attention to ranting and raving about pacifists and his opinion of how they 'meddled' in this war. The man had seen that Melanie Prescott was also a captive there at the fort and he seemed to want to use her to make an example out of.

"Prisoner," the militiaman spat. "She's no captive. Why, she is given special treatment. The girl's ensconced in the main house there and has free run of the fort. They even allow her out of it once in awhile—accompanied by men, that is. She's probably taken up with some of the British officers here."

A woman with a gentle voice disagreed. "But she is a pacifist. She wouldn't do that."

"M'am," he continued, "I can assure you that she is no pacifist. That was a front that her family put up. They worked closely with the British and favored them, wanting to compromise all that we fight for."

The lady spoke again in a tone implying shame. "Oh, we mustn't talk ill of the Dead." Despite Miss Prescott's preferred treatment, this woman had felt sorry for her that she'd lost her whole family and didn't think it proper to speak badly of the Prescotts now that they were gone.

"Then I'll only speak of Miss Melanie Prescott," the rebel retorted. "Did you all know that her fiancé was hanged because he was a spy?"

The group around him gasped in hushed tones, for this was not a well known fact.

"Think about it, folks," he beseeched. "She most likely knew all along what he was doing and probably helped him."

The rebel zealot went on. "How do we know she isn't a spy like he was? She is allowed to come down here as she pleases. Maybe she is spying on us for the British?"

Davis watched the crowd around him. He could see that he was stirring emotions and swaying opinions. "Or maybe she got herself hurt intending to get into the fort. She ingratiated herself to the officers. How do we know she isn't spying against them and getting messages out to our side?"

He continued. "You should watch yourselves around her and keep an eye on that girl. She can't be trusted as her family couldn't. Maybe she is being paid by both sides and is playing us all against each other."

Feeling the growing frenzy and confusion within the group about him, Davis was pleased that his words might be turning people against pacifism and pulling them over to fighting purely against tyranny. "After all, Miss Prescott did lose her land and home to His Majesty. Maybe she's prostituting herself to the British to regain her lands or to win her freedom? Perhaps just to avoid interment in a camp like this."

"But we don't know any of that for sure," a man objected.

"True," Davis agreed. "But I do know what I have heard from reliable people such as my fellow soldiers and folks such as yourselves. I am convinced that she is a spy and worked alongside her fiancé as one. She now works alone. I can only speculate as to what her motives are and which side—or both—she is working for."

A few yards from the crowd, a recently captured Colonial Regular Army Captain stood watching and listening to the crowd. His subordinate, captured along with him, joined him after venturing closer to the crowd. The young Colonial lieutenant wore a smirk on his face. His commander returned the boyish grin with a look of confusion, as if the young officer knew a secret.

"Captain Larsen," he began, "Do you recognize that man?"

"Voice sounds familiar," the Captain answered. He squinted and looked harder at the crowd, focusing on the raving rebel in the center of them.

In a moment, his face lit up as he raised his eyebrows in recognition. "Yes! He's a deserter from our unit, isn't he? What was his name?"

"Sergeant Davis, Sir," the young man replied. "Max Davis."

"Yes, that's right," agreed the Captain. "Didn't we hear that he fled to the militia?"

"Yes sir. The extremist part of the militia."

The Captain sighed in frustration. "Antics perpetrated by that group is why the British are so hard on us and our families," he pointed out in disgust.

The Captain went on. "Lieutenant Egan, I'm going to see that when we leave here, that man goes with us. I'll drag him out if I have to, and in front of a Court Martial. These deserters need to learn a lesson about duty and allegiance."

The Colonial Captain Larsen and Lieutenant Egan sauntered over to the crowd gathered there, and calmly made their way into the middle of it. They met eye to eye with their deserted officer.

"Well, Sergeant Davis," the Captain jeered, "we meet again. I see you're spreading lies—as usual."

"Not lies," Davis corrected. "I'm informing these good people of the truth. And you ARE NOT my commander anymore."

"Yes. I remember. You deserted," hissed the Captain. "You joined the militia where there's less structure and no rules to follow; where you can fight how and when you please." Davis' former commander looked down on the man.

Davis struck back. "We're fighting against the same enemy as you!"

"But not as gentlemen and with questionable tactics," the Larsen pointed out.

"It's a fight just the same," argued the deserter.

"I beg to differ," disagreed the officer. "Your undisciplined style of fighting reflects on _all _Colonials. Your tactics are the reason why we are treated so harshly. Good Provincial soldiers are paying for the militia's misdeeds!"

"There are no misdeeds in war," stated the former sergeant, "especially where the King is concerned.

"Nothing wrong?" asked the captain, his tone a little louder now, trying to press a point. "Then what do you call killing innocent citizens, loyalists, and pacifists who want nothing to do with the war?"

"All those 'citizens' aren't innocent," retorted Davis.

"Do you take that judgment into your own hands?"

"Someone has to!"

"Well, then Davis," the captain began, "I'm making a judgment now to make it my responsibility to see you court martialed for Desertion—and for the murder of innocent citizens—which might as well make you a traitor!"

With that remark, a punch was thrown by Davis. It hit the captain square on the jaw. He returned the action with a sharp jab to his former sergeant. Then, all Hell broke loose. The soldiers that had gathered began fighting Davis' fellow militia friends, and other prisoners tried to break up the fight, knowing full well their British captors wouldn't tolerate it and would punish them all.

Just outside the compound fence, Lord Cornwallis was milling about talking with his dragoon officers. All conversation stopped and heads turned in the direction of the fracas.

A clearly irritated Cornwallis ordered, "Break that up!"

At that, Tavington, Bordon, and some of the nearby Dragoons and infantrymen went in to stop the altercation between militia and regular Colonial army. The Redcoats promptly stopped the fight, immediately separating the two factions.

"Take them to the cells to cool off," Bordon shouted. He walked behind the men as they were hauled away, making his way back out of the compound.

Near the gateway, Smithers, Bordon's informant, stood by. As Major Bordon neared, the man made his way to him, stopping him. Out of earshot of the other prisoners and officers, he said in a low inconspicuous voice, "I know what started the fight."'

Alex narrowed his eyes at the man. He was in a foul mood today and was already tired of dealing with Colonials, prisoners, and officers.

Why do I give a damn what started it? General Cornwallis would have done well to let them fight it out and finish each other off!"

"Major," Smithers insisted, "something was said before the fight that you should know about."

Although Bordon liked his job as intelligence officer for the most part, he tired of having to pull fact from fiction out of all the mundane little things he saw or heard. It sometimes left his head aching and mind spinning. He was not in the mood for this today. Yet, Smithers had come forth before with some important information, so Alex knew he had to listen.

The Major took Smithers by the arm roughly, dragging him out of the compound, trying to make it look as if the man was in trouble and was being taken away. When the other prisoners glimpsed this, many of them dispersed and quickly hid, afraid it may happen to them as well.

Out of sight of the compound, Bordon and his ward ducked into a shed. Alex closed the door behind him, wanting their conversation to remain private.

"You will tell me everything, Smithers," Bordon growled, pressing the man to get immediately to the point.

"Your little Miss Prescott is a spy."

Major Bordon spun on his heel and looked back at the man. His eyes were as round as saucers, glittering with anger and disbelief. His jaw fell open as he stared dumbfounded at Smithers.

"Go on," coaxed Bordon, still amazed. He suddenly felt lost, wondering how he could have overlooked this important information or at how well it had remained a secret.

"The militia man was a deserter," Smithers began. "He was bragging to a group of prisoners about militia beliefs and tactics. He said that Miss Prescott's dead fiancé was a spy that had been caught and hanged by the British. That man, Davis I believe was his name, stated that her pacifism was a disguise. She is a spy, but he wasn't sure which side she is with, or if she's playing both sides."

Then, Mr. Smithers went on to detail some of the other words and the fight. He gave as many details about the parties involved as he could remember. But, Bordon hadn't heard a word of it. He was seething at the thought of a spy in their midst.

Saying nothing more, Bordon gave a couple of coins to Smithers and hurried him out of the shed. Outside, he passed the man off to an infantryman to have him escorted back to the compound. He tromped back toward the main house, practically running down two of his men. Then he turned back and shouted to them.

"Gwynne! Nichols!", he hissed, "You are to find Miss Prescott and bring her to my quarters IMMEDIATELY! She is to be bound!"

"Yes sir," they obeyed. They could tell their commander was angry about something, but didn't stay around to ask questions.

As Bordon continued his march back into the house and his room, his blood boiled. _Damn! How could we be so blind? We brought a spy in, nursed her back to health, and she lives to tell our secrets. Shit! She must know everything by now: the layout of the fort, our positions and defenses, our numbers, EVERYTHING! And she's most certainly passed the word out to her contacts by now. Damn it!_

Bordon acknowledged nor spoke to anyone he passed, fuming with rage. He never stopped to think that the information may be erroneous or to try and substantiate it. When he heard the insinuation of a spy near, he went through the ceiling and automatically went on the defensive. To him, this was an accusation that had to be treated seriously.

~/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/~

Once back in his room, Alex paced the floor furiously as his mind ran in circles trying to assess and handle the situation, reviewing the facts he knew of Miss Prescott in his head. His rage grew with each passing minute as he impatiently waited for his men to bring the girl. Alex wasn't sure if he was angrier at himself for letting this important detail go past him, or for trusting the poor little sick girl who was really a spy.

Suddenly, his mind went back to the past. To him, she was just like most of the other women he'd cared for. She was conniving and manipulative, playing with His Majesty's officer's trust to get something she needed.

As an intelligence officer, Major Bordon knew that deceit was part of this job. He often had to deceive people to get information, or employ others to do the deceiving for him. And, he had to put up with deceit from the other side, so much so that he felt sometimes that he had to wade through it. He abhorred it, perhaps because he dealt in it all the time. But, he absolutely loathed deceit by women, because of his past hurt and pain at the fairer sex's hands. This haunted him, gripping him tightly, and now biased him against Miss Prescott.

Alex Bordon resolved to use every tactic he knew to draw information from her quickly, no matter how brutal or scheming. He would get to the bottom of this right away and get her to sing like a canary immediately. He'd scare the answers out of her if he had to, and intimidate her in to stopping her covert activities.

And, if it were confirmed that she was a spy, he would make her pay dearly.

A few moments later, two Dragoon privates brought a bound and startled Melanie into Alexander Bordon's chambers. Melanie could tell by the scowl on his face that he was upset about something, filling her with dread.

She stood near the door apprehensively as the Major dismissed the privates. Gwynne and Nichols were secretly disappointed for they liked witnessing the Major's interrogations. They found it fascinating watching Bordon at his finest.

"Sit down Miss Prescott," Bordon said firmly, pulling the chair out from his desk for her.

She wasn't sure what was going to happen. First, the girl felt that she had been questioned enough times since she had been at been at the fort that there wasn't anything else they could ask. Secondly, the thought of being paraded about again sickened her.

Boldly, she spoke up. "Major, I don't know what else you could possibly have to ask me," she paused then continued. "And I don't wish to be put on display again."

"Quiet, Rebel bitch!"

Melanie stood mute and stunned, having never been called such a name before. She could feel her throat constricting and tears starting to form, but held them back.

"Sit down," ordered Bordon.

She swallowed hard and sat down, trying to catch her breath. What was the problem, she wondered?

Bordon glared hard down at her. He crossed his arms in front of him and said nothing, his eyes cold as steel.

She fidgeted nervously under his stare. Melanie found it hard to meet his gaze.

"YOU…..are a spy," he accused, arching an eyebrow at her.

Shocked, Melanie's jaw dropped. "What?"

"You heard what I said," he sneered.

The girl shook her head in disbelief. "But I'm not," she professed her innocence. "I…but….I….my family…." She was so taken aback that she could only stammer.

Suddenly afraid, Melanie stopped trying to talk, took a breath and composed herself. She tried to get control of her mind, which has been set to spinning by Bordon's accusation.

"I'm not a spy, Major," she explained. "Me…My Family…we weren't involved with the war except in the effort to stop it."

"It only looked like you weren't involved for you hid behind your pacifism," Bordon charged.

"No…. we didn't," she asserted, trying to keep her panic under control. Melanie feared that with the accusation of being a spy, she would end up like Peter had.

"I know all about your fiancé and why he was hanged," he stated. "No doubt you were working right alongside him."

She brought her bound wrists up to her head, covering her mouth with her hands, still unable to believe Bordon's accusations. "I wasn't," she swore. "I found out by accident that he was a spy, only a few weeks before he died."

Alex said nothing and continued to intimidate her with his silence and narrowed eyes. Melanie was desperate.

"You have to believe me, Major Bordon," she pleaded emphatically, rising to her feet.

"SIT DOWN!", he commanded with a firmly clenched jaw.

Afraid, Miss Prescott sat back down. She looked at the floor for a moment, trying to think of what to say or do to make him believe her.

After a moment of awkward silence, Melanie could come up with nothing to say to sway the man. _He must have assumed I was a spy since I was engaged to one. Maybe he heard a rumor. Maybe someone accused me falsely, she thought._

Tears came to her eyes. She let unguarded words pour out.

"I had no idea what Peter was doing. I thought he was an Aide De Camp for General Washington. He didn't tell me what he was doing, for he knew I'd worry. When I found out, he refused to tell me anything, saying it was better for me to remain ignorant of any of his activities, for my own protection and to prevent any trails leading back to him. His family didn't even know what he was doing."

She broke down completely, sobbing hard. Grief over Peter's death, which she thought she was over, flooded her heart.

"I never found out how he was discovered," she wept. "I don't know if he was accused, or caught in uniform, or what."

Melanie sniffled, then sucked in a breath. She continued, her tears starting to ease a little.

"The last time that I saw him before he died, he told me that he feared that people would accuse me of conspiracy because of my relationship with him. He was afraid it would hurt my family's reputation and efforts for a peaceful resolution. Peter thought the war would end soon, and we'd marry afterwards, when he wasn't a spy anymore and things were safer."

"Relax, Miss Prescott," he cajoled, the anger in his voice seeming to ease. "You're not in any trouble yet. But I will have to look into this further. I'm sure you understand that this revelation is very disconcerting to a man in my position. It's my job to find these things out."

Melanie said nothing, only shaking her head to show that she understood. She eased a bit, feeling that she was not in immediate danger. And, she believed that Major Bordon would check into the accusation, and if he was really as good an intelligence officer as reputed, he would find that she was innocent.

Bordon turned and stepped toward the window. The girl was relieved not to have his menacing stare at her anymore. She wiped tears from her eyes and cheeks with her bound hands.

Alex turned back to her with a face conveying no expression. Melanie looked up at him quickly, then back down at the floor. She had romantic feelings for this man. She felt shy under his stare, and nervous when near him. The girl wanted to do nothing but look into his blue eyes for a long time; just study them quietly. But she knew that would create ideas, so she avoided his gaze.

Bordon changed the subject and boldly broached another. "You are very pretty, Miss Prescott. Hard to believe you have no suitor." His voice dripped with sincerity and curiosity.

Melanie felt timid and uneasy, but could not help saying how she felt. "It's very hard to have a suitor when you are imprisoned."

The corners of Bordon's mouth curved into a slight smile. His manner turned cordial, almost playful.

"So tell me, Miss Prescott," he began as he took a step closer to the girl, "have you any romantic yearnings for anyone since your fiancé's unfortunate demise?"

Drawing in a surprised breath, Melanie felt a stir of emotions. She felt a bit of sadness as she missed Peter. Suddenly, she felt embarrassed, not wanting to admit that the man she faced was the object of her affection. Melanie felt fear as well, and she felt a flush of shyness course over her. What if he knew? What if he could tell that she liked him?

Wanting to blurt out that it was he, yet too shy to do so, as well as not ready for him to know, she answered as best as she could. In a steady, cold voice, she stated, "That is none of your business. I'm sorry, Major."

"Ah, but I believe it is", he corrected in a smooth voice. "I make it my business to know everything that goes on here in the fort since that is my primary function. And I happen to know that _you do_ have romantic desires toward someone, and he dwells within this fort."

Melanie began to fidget nervously in her chair. She tried to contain herself as best as possible. She didn't know what to say.

Alex continued. "I know that he wears a uniform. I also know that he is one of the officers. Ah, but which one, I wonder?"

She closed her eyes, trying unsuccessfully to will away the emotion which was beginning to betray her.

Cocking his head to the side, his eyes sparkled warmly as he looked at her. As soon as she looked up at him, she looked away again.

"And who is that man, Miss Prescott?", he coaxed in a voice laced with honey.

Squirming in her chair, Melanie found it hard to resist his sudden charm.

Alex went on. "Why, I would think that you would like to declare your desires for this man so that he might have the chance to return your feelings," he persuaded in a low, alluring voice.

Melanie found herself swimming in his sweet charm, a side of this man that she had not seen before. She was falling even harder for him now, wondering if he may have feelings for her, as well.

He circled her slowly as she sat in her chair. She flinched slightly as she felt his fingers in her hair, tussling softly her blonde curls.

She felt a heat racing across her skin. Melanie could not bring herself to look at Bordon, who now stood behind her. She felt as if his eyes burrowed into the back of her, seeing the very truth of her feelings hidden deep in her soul.

"And just who is this man that you have your eye on?" His voice was gentle and seductive. He admired her beauty as he stood behind her, thinking her form just as attractive from the back.

Conjuring up a little boldness, Melanie decided to test the water. She tried teasing him back, but the words came out of her drenched in obvious nervousness.

"You are an intelligence officer," she stammered timidly, "You must already know who it is."

Alex, still behind her, bent his form and leaned down to her. Close to her ear, he whispered, "I just want to hear you say it."

With this, Melanie felt that he must already know, whether he'd been told or if he figured it out on his own. She felt safe now, at ease to confirm his suspicion.

She swallowed, and held her breath an instant. Melanie closed her eyes and revealed her heart.

"It is you," she relented, in a shaky voice. Time stood still at that moment, as if Miss Prescott could no longer sense what was happening around her.

When she opened her eyes, Alexander Bordon stood before her, a look of smoldering desire on his face. She looked down again quickly, unable to look into those eyes, feeling trapped in something frightening.

"Yes. I know," he revealed in his deep voice. "You are very beautiful, my lady."

He loomed above her, making her feel very vulnerable. She felt that her emotions had already stripped her of all dignity.

"And just what is it you want from me?" he asked softly in a voice heated with desire.

"I want you to return my feelings," she stuttered in a shy little voice.

The Major knelt down in front of her. Melanie was still looking down, too timid still to meet his gaze. He leaned in very close to her, which sent a noticeable charge of excitement through her. Alex could tell she was nervous, yet raging with desire to make known her emotions for him.

Alex put his lips close again to her ear. Melanie trembled as she felt the heat radiate from his skin. She was aroused when she felt his breath on her neck and ear. Closing her eyes again, the girl felt breathless.

"Ah, your feelings Miss Prescott," he whispered sensuously against her ear. "And what are they toward me?"

"I am…. in love…. with you," she admitted in a frightened whisper. Melanie still could not look at him. She was too afraid, now that he knew her true feelings.

Pulling back from her, Alex caressed her cheek with his fingers, making her shudder. Desire was making her near insane. She felt a desperate need for this man.

"Look at me," he coaxed seductively.

Melanie slowly raised her eyes, which now locked with his. She felt helpless and lost.

"What is your deepest desire from me?" asked Alex. He did not take his eyes off hers.

Melanie felt that he must love her as well. Still, she hesitated. "I can't say," she replied. "It's not proper." With that, she looked down again, feeling ashamed that she had even insinuated something so intimate.

"You may tell me," he persuaded gently, "I must know." His voice was filled with an urgent pleading.

Still looking down, Melanie closed her eyes and revealed her deepest desire. "I want us to know each other as a man and a woman," she paused, embarrassed, then went on, "as a husband and wife would."

She felt so dirty having said that, but yet felt as if a weight had been lifted off her back. She was ashamed to have admitted something considered improper for casual company to discuss.

With his fingers under her chin, he softly guided her head up to look at him. "No. Look me in the eyes, my dear," he compelled.

Melanie looked up at him and for the first time, held his stare. She felt lost in his gaze and longed to keep looking at him. She studied everything about his face: his sensual mouth, his manly cheeks, his strong jaw, the lips she had just felt so close to her ear and then her own lips. She noticed the light freckles, ever so faint, that rested on his cheeks and nose. Mostly, it was his eyes, vividly blue with desire.

Melanie felt that she was his slave and she would probably do anything he asked her now. She'd fallen hard for the man, and was hopelessly lost to him in only a matter of moments.

Alex brought his lips close to Melanie's. She pined for them to finally touch hers. She thought she would explode if he didn't kiss her soon.

"And what would you like from me now, my lady?," he asked, his voice full of passion.

"A kiss…..Your kiss," she confessed in a wanton whisper.

He hovered close to her lips for a moment. Alex then pulled back from Melanie, watching her, clearly under his spell and vanquished by his charms.

But a minute later, he surprised her when his demeanor turned cold. He stood up and loomed ominously over her as she looked up vulnerably at him.

In his commander and interrogation voice, he declared, "My dear Miss Prescott. I am afraid that I do not return your emotions. You see, I am a soldier, an officer, and a commander. We are at war and I have my hands full of it. I do not have time for silly romantic entanglements with young girls. And, decorum prohibits officers from consorting with prisoners. Shame really. Pity. It would have been nice to have laid with you one night, tasted your wares and sampled your sweetness."

His sudden haughty aloofness caught her off guard. She couldn't understand what was going on. She had been under the spell of love one moment, and now he had turned on her. Melanie was too shocked to say anything, only wanting him to go back to his affectionate demeanor of only a moment ago.

Major Bordon continued on in a firm, emotionless voice. "Why, Miss Prescott, certainly you have heard that it is against regulations for officers to be intimate with prisoners? Therefore, I regret that I cannot consummate this relationship. I have no more questions. Good day, Miss Prescott."

A confused Melanie just sat there, feeling a twisted mixture of pent up frustration and deep disappointment. What was he doing to her?

Bordon marched to the door and opened it. "Guard. You may return Miss Prescott to her room. Thank you."

With that, she was ushered out of his room, still in a state of confusion.

Alex shut the door and leaned back against it. He smiled a wicked smile, then laughed to himself. He marveled at his tactics. He didn't confirm if she was a spy, something which he doubted now, but would check into it tomorrow. He had toyed with and intimidated her, playing a cruel game with her, having known of her feelings for him.

Yes. Bordon had resolved that no woman would ever master him again. He was proud that he made a lady, for once, bow to his strain. He was now holding the leash that would help him release the pain of his past.

~/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/~

Back in her room, Melanie was still in shock, trying to figure out what had just happened. Having been released from her bonds, she sat down on her bed numbly, idly wringing her hands. She tried to sort out the thoughts that flew through her mind and the emotions that tugged on her heart.

_I don't understand, she thought. Why did I do it? Why did I tell him? I should not have let him know my heart. I was such a fool. I was silly to think he would return my feelings. Why would he want a simple colonist Plantation girl like me? He probably has a cultured, beautiful, titled English lady back home. _

She laid back on her bed, rolling on to her side and curling up into a fetal position. Her mind continued to run as her eyes welled with tears.

_Why did I fall for Major Bordon's charms? Why do I like a man like him? I hoped he would like me. For a moment, I thought he did love me back. Oh, woe! How could I be so foolish? _

Oh, if only Peter was here now and the war was over….


	16. Chapter 16 A Loss Of Self

Chapter 16 A Loss Of Self

Surrounded by dragoons, Melanie lay snug in her bedroll by the fire, sound asleep. She was exhausted and sore from the rigors of four days of riding and camping. Slowly, she was becoming accustomed to sleeping on the ground. Tired tonight, she had fallen instantly into slumber.

The Dragoons, led by Major Bordon, were out on a mission to "show off" their prized prisoner. Miss Prescott had been flaunted before General Gates in a ploy by Bordon. Gates, who had 'admired' Melanie since he'd met her years earlier, considered a trade for the girl. The Colonial General made a poor judgment—thinking below his belt instead of with his head—he agreed to return two British officers in exchange for her. The man planned to keep her as his mistress.

Word was sent to Bordon and a rendezvous was arranged. Gates' men walked right into a trap. A small band of Redcoat infantry was hiding nearby as the prisoner exchange took place. They ambushed the colonials, outnumbering them as well, and took back their two British officers. The Redcoats also managed to capture the colonial Captain in charge of the exchange, as well as retaining Miss Prescott.

The liberated officers and new prisoner left with the infantry, leaving the band of dragoons behind. The group stayed out another day and night as Bordon wanted to check out some leads he'd found in the captured Captain's diary and letters.

As Melanie lay asleep by the fire, Alex Bordon tossed and turned on his bedroll in the tent. Alone there and struggling to fall asleep, he could not seem to get Miss Prescott out of his mind.

Every day he'd see her. He admired her beauty and wanted to know what it would be like to lay with her. Yet, he adhered to his self made vow that he would never fall in love again. But his manly, physical longing was getting the best of him.

Years of battle, stinging memories, denial, wanton desire, burning anger, and the unfulfilled vows of conquering collided within him. He fought bitterly with his own emotions, as well as his need for physical intimacy.

The battle within was like a cacophony in his head that he sought desperately to quiet. He could take no more of the din. And in a moment of weakness wrought with his twisted thoughts, tortured emotions and bitter memories, he gave in to his lust. Alex would have Miss Prescott at his mercy and whim.

He justified his decision to take her as retribution. Bordon would take revenge of his past women through her. Their debts and sins would be paid by Melanie. She would bear the wrath of his anger toward them.

The Major would make her pay dearly for Mary's, Paulette's, Jane's, and Christine's wrongdoings. Their transgressions would be turned upon Melanie and therefore be atoned for. Alex's hurt would be alleviated if he could inflict all the pain and hurt upon another that had been done to him. He was sure that it was the only way to make things right and to help him escape the past.

Alex got out of his bedroll and slipped quietly from his tent. He prowled silently around the fire to where Melanie lay slumbering.

Kneeling down beside her, he shook her gently. When she roused and opened her eyes, he put his finger to his lips. "Ssshhhh."

The officer helped the sleepy girl to her feet and picked up her bedroll. He guided her silently through the sleeping men and back to his tent. Melanie, still groggy, let him pull her along with no resistance. She thought nothing of it, having been made to sleep in his tent before.

The girl assumed that he was probably in a distrustful mood tonight, thinking she'd attempt another escape, which was giving him insomnia. She knew it would probably help him sleep better to have her close so he could keep an eye on her. She cared nothing about this. Sore and exhausted from days of riding and sleeping on the ground, she wanted nothing more than to resume sleeping.

Melanie stepped groggily into the Major's tent. She stood at the door of it in a sleepy haze as Bordon dropped her bedroll on the ground across from his.

Sleepily, she took a step forward to kneel down onto her bedding when she felt a shove from behind. Landing hard on her bedroll startled her wide awake. Before she could speak up, she found Bordon's body on top of hers.

He clamped his hand down over her mouth instantly. "Do not cry out," he warned in a low voice. "They cannot help you." Alex knew his men knew better than to question what went on in a superior's tent. Besides, they were all weary from the days of riding and slept soundly.

Melanie's eyes rounded in fear as she looked up into the Major's face. Confusion reigned.

"I will not be rough, I assure you," Bordon whispered.

With that, Alex uncovered her mouth and reached his hand downward.

Melanie panicked. "Major, please, no!" she begged.

"Do not be afraid," he soothed.

But she was. She was not ready for this to happen _now._

Melanie's mind flashed back instantly to when she was engaged to Peter. She had asked her mother privately about what was expected of her as a wife. Her mother told her that Peter would know what to do, leading and teaching her on their wedding night. The woman also said that it would hurt her the first time, but since Peter loved her, he would be gentle with her. Melanie recalled that her mother stated that at the end of the act, Peter would leave his seed within her, and hopefully, she would become pregnant.

Remembering this, Melanie trembled. She shuddered at the thought of feeling something unknown to her and the pain that would surely come with it. She also felt it scandalous to have a man between her legs with her skirt up. This wasn't what the girl had wanted and dreamed of at all. Melanie wanted the first time to be with her husband; a man who loved her. And although she was in love with Alex Bordon, she knew full well that he didn't return her affection.

"Please don't," she appealed to him. "I'm not ready for this!"

"On the contrary," Bordon teased. "You're quite ready for this. Remember, I know what your deepest desire is."

Major Bordon's teasing humiliated her. She was incensed at his callous remark. Melanie struggled beneath him, trying to hit him with her bound hands.

"You made me tell you!," she spat back at him.

Bordon laughed as he grabbed her arms to control them and leaned a little harder on her, pressing her into her bedding. "I won't hurt you. Just let me do as I please and it will be over soon."

"No!," she snapped back, still wriggling under him.

He pushed her arms up and over her head, laying them back on the bedroll. As he held her down, a sinister look crossed his face. "Things will be easier on you if you lie still and submit," he hissed.

Despite being restrained, Melanie still wiggled beneath the Major, hoping somehow to get away from him. "No, I beg you. Please don't do this!"

Miss Prescott soon felt his hand on her leg, which scared her. Then she felt Bordon push her skirts up a little higher. After a moment, she felt his fingers touch her bare thigh, making her gasp.

Desperate, Melanie had to find a way to stop this. Her mind spun into action, putting a plan into her head. She would appeal to him on a different level, hoping he would understand and spare her.

"Major, you already know how I feel about you," she implored. "Why not give me the chance to give myself to you willingly, in your bed or mine….at the fort?"

Melanie hoped this ploy would at least buy her some time.

Bordon sneered. "Because I want you now."

With that, his knees forced her legs widely apart, hurting her already sore body. Melanie knew it was going to happen and there was nothing she could do about it.

Still holding her down, the Major undid his breeches.

"At least give me some dignity and untie me," she pleaded, hoping to have her restraints eased.

The officer looked her squarely in the eyes. "You know I cannot."

Melanie closed her eyes and held her breath as she felt him push his trousers down.

Scared and panicked, the girl was near tears. In a whisper, she pleaded, "Please don't, Sir. I'm a virgin."

Bordon stopped above her and leered down at her with a smirk. "That's even better!"

Her mouth dropped open, aghast at his words.

"Now, be a good girl and let me take care of myself," he commanded. "Who knows? You may even find pleasure in it."

Melanie held her breath again and stayed still. She tensed up, nervous at what was about to happen. Closing her eyes, she prayed that it would indeed be over with soon and that it wouldn't hurt.

She flinched when she felt the tip of him touching the sensitive flesh between her legs.

"Ssssshhhhhh," he quieted her.

"No," she whispered faintly.

Next, Alex clamped his hand down over her mouth to silence her. In one smooth move, Bordon pressed his hardened manhood into her. The invasion was slow, yet unrelenting.

Melanie winced as she felt for the first time the sensation of a man entering her. Feeling him within her, Miss Prescott's body tightened even more in reaction to her fear.

As Alex moved deeper into her, he broke through her shield. Instantly, Melanie felt a stinging sensation deep within her pelvis as he tore her virtue. Her eyes widened as she screamed, the cry muffled by Bordon's hand securely over her mouth.

Steadily moving on until he could go no further, he tried to quiet the hysterical girl's screaming behind his hand.

"Sssshhh…..it will be over soon."

Miss Prescott's eyes filled with tears, and she whimpered pitifully as his length and thickness filled her completely. Trails of tears ran from the corners of her eyes and disappeared into her blonde hair as she felt him painfully stretching her virgin walls.

A deep groan and labored breathing came soon from Alex as he enjoyed the pleasure he felt from her virgin tightness. He continued his assault, pushing deeply into her.

Feeling confident that Melanie was too overwrought to call for help, he uncovered her mouth. As the girl sobbed beneath him, he balanced himself on his free hand now, still holding her hands down with his other hand.

For Melanie, the intensity of the situation coupled with her rigid body, made so by fear, only magnified the pain. She continued to weep quietly and weakly, her arms still held down above her head. The girl turned her head to the side and hid her face in her own shoulder, sobbing all the while, wishing for this to be over soon.

After a few more of his thrusts, Melanie heard a low moan and a gasp come from the Major. She heard him groan again, then felt his body collapse on hers. She kept her head turned to the side, afraid of meeting his gaze close up after this indignation.

Melanie felt a warm wetness inside of her; a strange sensation. She guessed it to be Bordon leaving his seed within her. As he wilted out of her, the same liquid oozed from her, running down her bottom and onto her petticoat beneath her. Melanie also smelled a pungent odor and assumed that to be Bordon's scent upon her.

Alex eased himself up from her, pushing his spent manhood back down into his breeches. He did not button them though, and instead, headed out of the tent.

Melanie curled painfully into a fetal position, hugging her knees tightly to her chest. She sobbed uncontrollably as she lay on her side in her bedroll, distraught over what just happened. Heartbroken, she felt she was now damaged goods, ruined for her husband in the future. She winced whenever she shifted her body slightly, the pain from the rape seeming to radiate throughout. Melanie felt the throbbing and burning of the torn and violated flesh between her legs. This hurt far worse than she ever imagined. The poor girl soon cried herself to sleep.

Outside of the tent, Bordon picked up a lantern and headed down to the creek. As he cleaned himself up, he could just barely hear Miss Prescott weeping. Recalling his own experience with virgin women in his past and drawing on the stories he'd heard from other men, he thought to himself. _"Virgins always cry. They put up such a fuss and a show about it, even when they're willing. They should stop fighting and enjoy it. Men_ _certainly do!"_ This was just another mystery that he and other men would never understand about the fairer sex.

~/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/~

In the morning, Major Bordon let Melanie sleep as the dragoons dismantled the camp. He felt it was the least he could do after having taken her virtue.

As he packed his saddle, he motioned for one of his privates to come to his side. "Stirling, please go into my tent and wake Miss Prescott. Bring her here; she'll ride with me."

"Yes sir," he obeyed, and disappeared through the tent flap.

Melanie was curled up in her bedroll, sound asleep. The private knelt down beside the girl and touched her shoulder.

"Excuse me, Miss," he said as she awakened, "You must get up and get ready. The Major says we ride shortly."

Awake, Melanie lay still as she watched the private leave the tent. She sighed, and rolled over to her opposite side. She winced as she did, her body stiff from days of riding and sleeping on the ground, and from the circumstances of the previous night.

Melanie eased herself up to a sitting position, groaning as she did. She was amazed at how much her body hurt after her ordeal with Bordon. Taking a deep breath, the girl stood up slowly, whimpering as she did. She was sore all over; her back ached, her hips hurt from having been pried open, she felt discomfort in her pelvis, and her crotch throbbed from the tearing of the delicate skin of her womanhood.

Trying to compose herself, Melanie took a deep breath to quell the pain. Then, she walked stiffly and slowly out the door. She padded as softly as she could to Major Bordon's horse, each step that she took hurting her. Once there, she stood quietly next to the Major's horse, waiting to leave.

As the Major's tent was folded and last to be packed, Bordon made his way to his horse and the awaiting captive. Melanie looked away quickly, unable to look him in the face after what he'd done to her.

After a moment, the Major mounted his steed, then reached down to help Miss Prescott up. She was lifted by one of the other dragoons up to Bordon. Still bound at the wrists, she was put onto the saddle in front of Alex.

Uncomfortable sitting, especially on a horse after having her virginity destroyed, Melanie tried to shift herself to a better position that would ease her ache. She shuddered when she felt Bordon's arm slip around her waist to hold her. She did not want this man anywhere near her now, let alone his hand upon her body. Melanie hoped the ride back to the fort would go quickly.

The Major called for the troop to move out. The horse lurched forward, causing Melanie to gasp in pain, her nerves already on edge. After only a few steps, Melanie knew this was going to be a very uncomfortable ride for her. Each bumpy step of the beast hurt her fragile, torn womanhood and aching hips.

After unsuccessfully trying to shift in the saddle, Melanie spoke up.

"May I walk please, Major?" she requested meekly.

"Do not insult my intelligence," snapped Bordon. "I am not going to let you walk."

"Please sir!"

"Do you take me for a fool, Miss Prescott," he growled. After a minute of silence, he spoke again. "Why should I?"

Melanie did not want to answer his question. She was embarrassed to have to tell him why.

"Well?" asked an impatient Bordon.

The girl hesitated again, then answered him. "Because I find it uncomfortable riding after what you did to me last night!"

Alex laughed. "My dear, it always hurts the first time. You may someday find pleasure in the act."

Insulted, Melanie turned slightly in the saddle. In a flash, she raised her bound hands and tried to slap the Major. She could not.

The Major laughed aloud, then smiled roguishly at the girl. "It's hard to slap someone with your wrists bound."

"Bastard!"

Major Bordon only laughed again at the girl. This angered Melanie further.

"Don't think you can take advantage of me again!" she warned.

The Major seemed to lose his sense of humor at her impertinent remark. Sternly, he scolded her. "Miss Prescott, do not presume to tell me what I _can_ and _cannot_ do."

"I'll tell Colonel Tavington or General O'Hara," she threatened, feeling a little bolder now. Anger and hurt fueled the boldness.

"Go ahead," challenged the Major "It will be your word against mine. Besides, I know who you are in love with. So how can you prove that it wasn't pleasurable? Or that you didn't desire it? Hmmmm?"

"I did not want it taken from me by force," Melanie spat in a low voice.

"You have no choice in the matter. I will take what I want when I want it!" With that, Major Bordon coaxed his horse to walk a little slower, pulling back slightly from the group a dragoons just ahead.

Alex gripped her chin firmly in his gloved hand and turned her head back to look at him. Melanie gasped in fear.

Bordon went on with his threats. "Miss Prescott, if you breathe a word of this to anyone, I will deny it. I'll say that you seduced me in an attempt to win your freedom."

Melanie's mouth dropped open in disbelief that he would be so ungentlemanly as to do that. Before she could protest, he continued.

"I'll make it harder on you the next time. So you might as well not fight it, and let me have my fancy with you as I please for now. Like anything, I will soon tire of you and move on to something else." He looked lasciviously at her.

Aghast, Melanie could say nothing. She tried to jerk away from him and turn back toward the front, disgusted at having to look at the officer.

"Now, what are you going to tell people," asked Bordon.

Melanie looked straight ahead and said nothing. She decided that the man wasn't worth talking to.

Suddenly, Alex grabbed a fistful of her blonde locks and savagely jerked her head backwards. Melanie winced.

Still holding her hair, with her head craned backwards and her neck feeling as if it would snap, she answered him. "Nothing."

Satisfied with her answer, Bordon let go of her hair. "Correct! That's a good girl."

~/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/~

Three hours later, Melanie was relieved to ride through the gates of Fort Carolina. She would feel safe now, knowing that she could lock her door to keep Bordon out.

The band of Dragoons stopped near the porch of the main house. A private stepped forward to help Miss Prescott down as a stable boy held the horse. As soon as Melanie's feet touched the ground she took off running into the house. She wished to get as far away from Major Bordon as she could and to her room, which she perceived to be a secure place. The distraught girl flew past the house mistress and up the stairs.

Once at her room, she slammed the door. Leaning back against it, the young woman was still in shock from last night's occurrence. She began to weep, putting her hand over her mouth in an attempt to quiet her tears. A moment later, she dissolved into hard sobs which wracked her body.

Still in disbelief at what had happened hours before, she lamented her callous treatment at the hands of Major Bordon. Only weeks ago she had fallen in love with him and hoped that he would return her feelings. Instead, he selfishly took everything from her for himself. He did not let her offer herself freely to him. The Major didn't even comfort her during or after his cruel act. Bordon did not love her; instead he'd used her for his own pleasure, which broke Melanie's heart.

The girl also wept in panic and horror. She wondered if he'd left his child in her womb. Melanie closed her eyes and shook her head in disbelief, sobbing even harder now. She did not want to bear Bordon's bastard. And if she did, it would be a disgrace. How would she take care of herself and an illegitimate baby? How could she love a child borne out of rape? What would she tell the baby about its father? Her mind ran in circles, tripping over itself as she speculated on a conception that she wasn't even sure had happened yet.

Amidst her tears she heard a knock on the door. She held her sobs back for a moment, trying to make the room appear as if it was empty. Melanie was frightened that it was the Major trying to get in.

"Miss," a familiar voice called through the door, "Miss? I've got your things."

Recognizing the voice of one of the servants, she opened the door to let her enter. Melanie sucked in a breath, trying to compose herself. She was afraid that questions would be raised—ones that she had to answer. And the girl recalled that Bordon would hurt her if she implicated him in any wrongdoing.

"Welcome back, Miss," the maid said as she entered the room. "The mistress told me you were back. She wanted me to check if you need anything."

Melanie did not answer, feeling as if she couldn't make any words come from her mouth. Her eyes followed the servant girl as she walked toward the bed.

Once there, she put a pack on it. "Major Bordon sent this up to you. He said you left it on his horse."

Still mute with shock, Melanie shuddered at the mention of the officer's name. As the maid looked back at Miss Prescott, she noticed that the young woman looked pale and shaken.

"Is there anything wrong, Miss?"

"No," Melanie clipped. "I'm fine."

"Would you like me to get you anything? Are you hungry?" The servant was worried about the state the lady was in. She eyed her with concern.

"A bath," Melanie insisted, sounding almost frantic. "Quickly!" With that, she began to pace the room mindlessly. "A bath," she repeated. "Hurry! I must wash the dirt away!"

The confused maid answered. "Yes, Miss. I'll have it brought right away. Is something the matter?"

"No," Melanie feigned assuredness. "No. I'll be fine after a bath."

As the maid walked toward the door, Melanie spoke up again. "Um, I'd like to see Miss Kilpatrick. Could you send her to me now, please?"

"Oh, sorry Miss," she apologized. "She is not here at the fort today. She accompanied two of the General's wives to Charles Towne and won't be back for a few days."

"Oh….I see," Melanie said, disappointed. She longed for Bridget to be there. She knew she could trust her enough to tell her of the abominable thing that had happened, and that her Irish friend would comfort her.

The maid left the room, leaving the door slightly ajar, which Melanie did not notice. All she could think about was getting a bath. She felt the need to wash away all traces of Major Bordon as soon as possible.

Lost in her own distress and feeling dirty, she quickly peeled the clothes off her body and left them in a heap on the floor next to the bed. She stepped back from them, as if they were cursed. The woman couldn't bear to touch them again. Her dress had been ripped in the struggle with Bordon. Her petticoat was stained crimson with her virgin blood. It also bore the remains of Bordon's seed upon it, mixed with her own womanly substance which had all dried on the delicate undergarment.

She abhorred not only the sight of those clothes, but the scent of them as well. Within the small confines of her room, she could smell Bordon's semen upon herself as well as the clothes. To her, it seemed to permeate the room and her being and made her sick. On her skin and body, and the ripped dress, she also smelled the wool of Bordon's uniform, his horse, and his own musky scent, reminding her of his body on hers, stealing her virtue.

Melanie reached for her robe, wrapping her sore body in it. She sat down in the chair and looked forlornly out the window. Shaking her head and closing her eyes, she pulled her legs up into the chair and cuddled there, hugging her knees close to her chest. After rocking absently for a minute, she burst into tears again.

In the hallway outside her room, Colonel Tavington approached. He had seen that his group was back from their journey and he wanted to greet the young lady. He knocked on the door, finding that it was ajar.

Melanie was so absorbed in her own sorrow that she hadn't heard the knock. She also did not hear the Colonel as he greeted her when he walked in the room.

He saw her crying and was immediately dismayed. The officer surmised that she was having a bad bout of sorrow over her dead family.

"Miss Prescott," said Tavington in a gentle voice as he approached her. He knelt down in front of her. "Thinking about your family aren't you?"

Melanie looked at him, tears brimmed her red eyes. "I…..I…I can't talk about it," she stammered.

"I understand," William replied. "I felt the same as you're feeling now when I lost my father. You never quite get over the loss, but in time, you go on with life."

The poor girl hid her face in her hands, crying even harder now. Now, to add to the distress of her recent ordeal, she was also thinking of the loss of her family, which made her despair worse.

Will let her cry things out for a moment. He looked about the room, seeing her baggage on the bed, then spotting her dress discarded in a pile on the floor. The man walked over to the side of the bed and bent his tall frame down.

Melanie shrieked as she saw him reach for her dress. She wanted no one to touch the stained garments. "No! Don't! They're dirty!"

The startled officer stood upright quickly. "I was going to lay them across the bed for you, but I'll leave them for the servants."

William, puzzled by Melanie's reaction, hovered near the pile of clothes for a moment, listening to the girl's quiet sobs. Tavington's brow furled as he caught a familiar scent. Although faint, he could smell the distinct scent of a romantic encounter. Forgetting the young lady weeping in the chair, he seemed to fall into his own thoughts.

Colonel Tavington wondered if Miss Prescott had a lover. But who? It couldn't be; he was certainly imagining the scent. She was always watched closely. And he trusted that his men knew that she was not to be touched by orders of Cornwallis. Nonetheless, William became jealous as he wondered who she may have been with. But, he tried to brush it away, denying to himself that she had been with anyone.

He walked back over and crouched down close to Melanie's chair. He wished he could impart some wisdom to her from his own experience that would help her with the grief. "Would you like to talk about it?"

She looked up from her tears and shook her head no. But inside she was screaming. Melanie really wanted to tell him that his own second in command had just raped her. She hesitated, still remembering Bordon's threat.

In the stillness of the room, Melanie thought for a moment. Maybe she should go ahead and tell Colonel Tavington what happened. He was Bordon's commander and surely he could do something about it. She could also tell Generals O'Hara and Cornwallis and maybe they would move her from the fort to another area. Surely she would be protected.

"I do need to tell you something," she blurted out. It was already out of her mouth before she realized what she had just said. There was no turning back now. She knew she would have to go ahead and tell Tavington what had happened.

"Yes," he answered warmly. But as he did, there was a knock at the door and in walked the maid with two African servants behind her, all carrying pails of warm water. Another man followed them, carrying the large washtub for her.

"Oh," Tavington remarked, "I see your bath is here. I'll catch up to you later." With that, the Colonel rose and bid goodbye to Miss Prescott, then walked quickly from the room.

~/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/~

A few moments later, she lowered her aching, dirty body down into the tub. The feel of the warm water relaxed her tight muscles and soothed the soreness of losing her virginity only hours before. With a washcloth, strong soap, and the scented oil in the water, she scrubbed her body all over twice, urgently trying to remove all traces of "Brutal Bordon" from her skin.

After the bath, she rose and dried off, but instead of getting dressed, she put on her nightgown and crawled into bed. She sank down into the softness of it and pulled the covers up around her head. Melanie turned on her side and curled up, once again hugging her own body tightly to herself. The girl felt ill to her stomach, as well as heartsick, unable to shake off her assault. She found herself crying again, then soon fell asleep, secure in her bed and glad to be in her room.

~/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/~

At dinner that evening, Lord Cornwallis sat at the head of the table surrounded by his Generals and Colonels. Laughter was heard as they waited for the meal to be served. They discussed the latest news they had heard from England as they waited for one lone chair to be filled: Melanie's. Just as the first plates were brought in, a servant came to General Cornwallis. He read the note that was handed to him.

"Oh, Henry," he called to one of the men serving. "You may clear Miss Prescott's place. She won't be joining us this evening."

Colonel Tarleton spoke up. "Anything wrong, my Lord?"

"Only a note with her regrets," replied the Lord General. "She is ill and has taken to her bed."

"That's understandable," O'Hara remarked. "Most women don't take kindly to being herded about the countryside and living the spartan life our soldiers live. It's a tough life even for the men."

Tavington cleared his throat. "Um, would you excuse me a moment, My Lord? I regret that I forgot to bring a letter from my Mother that I'd like to share with all of you. She speaks of some humorous happenings around London of late."

The Lord General nodded. Tavington left the table with a bow of his head to the others. "I'll be but a moment."

William ascended the stairs quickly and bolted into his room. He grabbed the letter from his desk and left again. Instead of going back to the dining room, he headed up the next flight of steps to the third floor.

Once outside of Melanie's room, he knocked at the door.

After hearing a very weak voice giving permission to enter, he stepped into the girl's room. Seeing her in bed, he padded quietly over to the side of it.

"Colonel?" she asked sleepily.

"Is anything wrong, Miss Prescott? The General said you were sick." William was concerned for he enjoyed her presence at dinner.

"No, sir, nothing serious," she answered in a subdued voice. "I didn't feel well today and I'm not hungry at all. I think the best thing for me is to rest here in bed for a few hours."

"You're probably right," Tavington admitted. "It's not good to go dragging you about the countryside. You need the rest."

"I'm sorry, Colonel," she said. "But thank you for checking on me. I appreciate your concern."

"Very well, then," William replied. He turned to walk out the door, but stopped just before leaving the room. "Oh, Miss. Forgive me. I just now remembered that we weren't finished with our conversation today before your bath arrived. You said that there was something you needed to tell me."

Melanie gulped as a sudden bolt of panic coursed through her body. She desperately wanted to inform him of his Aide de Camp's actions, but became afraid. The poor girl just could not bring herself to say it. She was too embarrassed and humiliated to talk of such a subject to a man—a Colonel. And she was frightened of the aspect of Bordon hurting her worse. After all, there were only two people in the tent as the rape happened, and the Major would surely know who had told on him.

She took a breath and closed her eyes. Then, her lie began, "I just wanted to thank you for sharing your experiences of grief over your father's death with me. I know it must have been hard for you to speak of it, but knowing that I am not alone and that you understand my emotion helps."

"You're welcome, Miss Prescott," he answered cordially. "We're here to help and protect you." He left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

Melanie rolled over slowly, her body still aching from the episode with Major Bordon. She pulled the covers up over her head and closed her eyes. She felt a tear run out as she squeezed them shut. She said a silent prayer, asking for protection and begging for nothing like that to ever happen again to her.


	17. Chapter 17 Living In Fear

Chapter 17 Living In Fear 

"Ah, I'm glad you decided to join me," Banastre remarked as William stepped onto the porch.

"Yes," Colonel Tavington replied as he sat down on the step. "I find myself craving our banter after an evening of stuffy conversation at the dinner table with our favorite General." His tone was sarcastic.

"Quite boring adhering to decorum all the time, isn't it," Tarleton quipped.

"Yes," answered William, taking a slow drink of his brandy.

Both paused to look up at the star filled sky, quietly admiring it. After a moment of quiet, Ban spoke up. He sensed that something was bothering William.

"What's the matter, Willy boy?" Banastre asked in a sing song manner. "Tell old Banny what the problem is?"

William said nothing, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. Colonel Tarleton plopped himself down on the step above Will's. "Did someone steal your favorite horse…..or maybe your favorite woman?"

"Hmmph!…woman," William droned absently, not realizing what he was saying.

"Ahhhh, it _is _a woman," Ban surmised with a crooked grin. "Out with it, Tav."

Will hesitated, not wanting to admit outright that he liked Miss Prescott, nor wanting to arouse any suspicions. But, William knew that Banastre knew a lot of the fort gossip—and was sometimes the cause of the gossip—so he might have heard something about the girl.

Tavington took another swallow of brandy and began. "I am guilty of looking the other way when my men take advantage of the female prisoners."

"Wait a minute, Tav," Tarleton said with a funny look on his face, "shouldn't you have started that with 'Bless me, Father, for I have sinned'?"

William shot a fierce look at Tarleton, then rolled his eyes. He said nothing back to his friend's remark.

"Well, was that a confession or a boast?"

"Neither," answered Will. "It was an admission of guilt."

"Well, if it makes you feel better," Tarleton snickered, "Some have accused me of the bad habit of doing the same with said female captives."

"Accusation? Try truth," Tavington retorted with raised eyebrows.

"Of course it's the truth," snapped Banastre. "I wouldn't ask my men to do anything I wouldn't do myself. After all, I've got to lead by example."

William could do nothing but sigh and sit quietly. He reclined back on the steps to listen as Banastre launched into one of his self serving, self aggrandizing, yet humorous monologues. No use trying to fit a word in edgewise. Will knew best from experience just to let Ban run loose at times like this.

Colonel Tarleton smirked, obviously pleased with his last witty remark. He took a pull of his drink, then went on offering his philosophy on life in the military to his fellow commander.

" But, the phrase 'taking advantage' is so harsh, don't you think? I prefer to think of it as smoothing the way for better relations with our enemies—or at least their women. We must show them that we're not all bad and not to be feared. No—that's wrong. The rebels _should_ fear something. They should be afraid that we will show their women a better time in bed!"

"Here here," William agreed, toasting his fellow Colonel.

Banastre continued. "I feel that charming the female population is part of my duty. Who knows? Maybe they can convince their men that this war against us is useless."

He paused to take another sip, then added , "And teach them a few new tricks in the sack."

Tavington laughed. "You are incorrigible."

"To know me is to love me," smirked Ban.

"And all the women round here seem to do just that."

"Tavy, my friend. I've made it one of my personal goals to bed as many women in the colonies as I can. In fact, if you listen in this quiet night air, you can hear many of them sighing the name 'Banastre'." He said this light and airily, for effect.

"Yes," Tavington agreed. "I seem to remember a certain officer's mistress in Philadelphia caught in the throes of passion moaning your name." William loved to check Banastre—when he could.

"Well, there was more than mere moaning going on," Banastre added mischievously. "The truth of the matter is, if Major Crewes would have kept the dear lady satisfied, she wouldn't have strayed from his bed."

"As I seem to recall, it was _you_ who strayed with _her_ into _his_ bed," Tavington corrected with a sly grin.

"She didn't exactly kick me out of the bed," Tarleton pointed out.

"Ahh, but some of these women do resist us," indicated William.

This riled Banastre, thinking in his mind that all women desired a good roll in bed, but that they all acted coy about it. "Tav, you know damn well that some of the captives welcome or even encourage our advances. Some even take steady lovers."

"Which brings me back to what I wanted to say."

"Which is?"

"I think Miss Prescott has a lover," replied William, trying not to convey any jealousy.

"So what if she does? It's not a crime," Ban defended.

"But it's against protocol, decorum…" Tavington stated his voice trailing off as he tried to think of justification as to why she shouldn't have a man in her life at present.

"I wager you're wrong," Ban said. "She's still awfully grief stricken to be partaking in activity of that nature."

Tavington sat up and leaned in toward Banastre, as if imparting a secret. In a low voice he revealed, "I smelled the scent of romance in her room today after she'd been out with my men on a mission. So, I can only surmise that she does have a lover and it is one of my own men."

"Are you sure," questioned Tarleton. "She's watched like a hawk and well guarded. But if she has bedded one of your men, what's it matter?"

Tavington started to become a little irritated with his fellow commander. He felt that sometimes Tarleton could not draw the line between being the clown and attending to his duty.

"You just admitted that _you_ look the other way when it's done," Banastre reminded him.

"Yes, but this is different. Lord Cornwallis knew her family and seems to take it upon himself—and us indirectly—to watch out for her well being. I took his words and actions as that she is not to be touched. And, I thought my men realized as much."

Ban protested. "If we followed his orders or wishes, none of us would be with _any_ of the captives—or any women for that matter. He looks at it as a distraction from the business of winning this war. In fact, if he had his way, there'd be no women at all around here and no jaunts to the local brothels. Think of how low morale would be? Tav, these men–well all of us—are a long way from home. It would be disastrous if the Lord General forced us or even expected us to adhere to all of the policies and protocol. If these men's physical needs aren't met, it would encourage desertion. If officers didn't take initiative, battles wouldn't be won or prisoners and land captured."

"Yes, I know you're right," William conceded.

"So why does all this matter and what does it have to do with Miss Prescott," asked Banastre. He was genuinely curious.

"Oh, nothing. I was just pointing out what I thought after visiting her this afternoon." Tavington swallowed the last of his drink, then added nonchalantly, "After all, she is pretty."

"Oh yes," Banastre agreed, a lewd smile curling across his lips. "_Very_ pretty. If she wasn't so _protected _by Lord Cornwallis, I'd fancy having a go at her myself."

William felt a pang of silent jealousy within him at his friend's words. He knew that Ban Tarleton could charm any one woman right into his bed.

Banastre gulped down the last of his drink, then jumped to his feet before Tavington. He smiled down at his fellow commander impishly.

"Speaking of 'having a go'," he began, "I've heard of a wonderful brothel in Stansburg. Women there do things that one only dreams of."

William shook his head and laughed. "You _are_ a connoisseur of whores, aren't you?"

"Not just of whores," Ban corrected with a smile, "but of _all_ women. C'mon Tav. If we ride quickly, we can make it there in less than an hour!"

William rolled his eyes, but Ban kept at him.

"Oh, _come on, William,"_ he coaxed. "We can both have a good tumble and be back by breakfast!"

Relenting, Colonel Tavington stood up and stretched. He set his snifter down on the porch railing next to Tarleton's empty wine glass. "Alright."

As the two walked toward the barns, Tarleton went on. "I've heard they have a marvelous card game."

William bristled at his words. He not only wanted a good roll in the sheets, but to gamble as well—a bad habit for him which was worse than his carousing.

"Ban! Your mother just cleared your gambling debts!"

"I know," admitted Colonel Tarleton, "But I think luck is on my side tonight."

~/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/~

The next two days, Melanie kept to her room or close by it. It was the only place she felt safe. She did not venture out much, taking her meals in her room, telling the servants she didn't feel well. The girl wanted to avoid seeing Major Bordon, especially not wanting to take the chance of ending up alone with him.

Often those two days while in her room, Melanie found herself crying. She wept sadly over a broken heart. This man, Alex Bordon, whom she had secretly fallen in love with, rejected her. She had idealized him romantically and was deeply disappointed to see the rough side to him. The girl had never imagined the dark side of the man she adored. Her heart and soul ached; she'd envisioned romance with him, and had been made to confess it. She was then treated monstrously in return.

Melanie wished Bridget was there. She needed her friend desperately now. The young woman wanted to tell her friend what had happened, hoping somehow that Bridget could make it all better. Unfortunately, Miss Kilpatrick was still in Charles Towne. The other servants could only tell the young woman that she would be gone for a few days and it wasn't known when she would return; that was up to the whims of the officers' wives whom she had accompanied.

So Melanie was left alone in her despair. She questioned if she would ever feel safe again. The girl could only guess if most men took their women to their beds in this same manner. Miss Prescott wondered if any man would ever want her now that she had been spoiled by rape.

~/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/~

Nearing the end of the second day, Melanie sat curled in a chair trying to read. Still too distracted with horrid thoughts of her ordeal to do so, she closed the book and looked outside. As she gazed at the long shadows falling throughout the fort caused by the low sun she sighed.

She pined for things to be as they were: to be back at her plantation, for her family to be alive, to see Peter strolling across the lawn in his uniform, to pull fresh strawberries from the thousands of plants they harvested. The girl now detested this life in the fort, which she had resigned herself to try to get used to.

Lost in her longings, a knock pulled her from her thoughts. A bolt of fear shot through her, still skittish that every noise or creak she heard was Major Bordon coming for her. She took a deep breath, though, pulling herself together. After two days of barely having seen the man, she could only assume that the worst was over.

Melanie opened the door slowly to see Privates Higgins and Perkins standing there. She smiled slightly at them. Truth be known, she was thankful that it wasn't Major Bordon—or any of the other officers for that matter. After her ordeal with Bordon, she couldn't help but feel that everyone knew that she had been raped, as if it had been etched across her forehead. She burned with embarrassment at the thought and still wasn't ready to face or talk with any of the officers.

"Miss Prescott," Private Higgins acknowledged.

"Yes," she answered.

"We have orders to escort you to see Major Bordon."

"What?" she exclaimed with rounded eyes. "No!" With that, Melanie tried to push the door shut but was stopped by a booted foot in the doorway. Private Perkins pushed the door back open as both dragoons stepped just inside her room.

"We have our orders, Miss," Perkins stated. "Please come with us. Don't make us have to drag you along."

The way the two men droned, Melanie could tell that they _were_ acting under orders and probably had no idea what the Major had done to her the other night. They were just the messengers. Despite that, Melanie instantly trembled, fearing the worst. She did not want to be alone with Major Bordon.

"Alright," she conceded. She left her room and walk between the two Dragoons. Melanie reasoned with herself as she began her walk hopeful that the two Privates would be present as she met with the Major.

Melanie tried to console herself as she descended the stairway to the second floor. It was early evening and many people were up and about the house still. Surely he wouldn't try anything. She even reasoned that there may be a Colonial officer here now for them to flaunt her in front of—they had been known to cross the lines into the fort under white flag. Or maybe he needed to see her with the Generals.

The girl felt confident that things were okay, until they turned the corner at the second floor landing. Melanie felt panic come over her. He usually spoke with her in one of the rooms on the first floor or their makeshift interrogation room, a small room on that same level.

"This isn't the way to the interrogation room," she objected. "I thought you said the Major needed to see me?"

"Yes Miss," Private Higgins answered. "In his quarters per his request."

"No! I refuse!," she exclaimed, raising her voice slightly. "I won't see him in his quarters!"

"You haven't a choice, Miss Prescott," Perkins stated. "It's his orders. We aren't in the habit of questioning directions from our superiors."

Melanie stopped immediately and tried to turn and walk away. Both privates caught her arms to prevent her from going.

"No! I can't! I won't!" she objected. The girl tried digging her heels into the runner carpet, trying to hold herself back.

"Come along, Miss!"

Now being forced along, she looked up and saw Colonel Tarleton leaving his room. He shot an odd look at the trio.

She called out to him as they passed in the hallway. "Commander Tarleton," she beseeched, "Please tell them to let me go. I don't want to see Major Bordon; I'm afraid of him!"

Banastre stopped in his tracks and turned around to see the girl struggling and looking back over her shoulder at him.

"Stop there," he called out. He walked over to the three and took Melanie's arm, pulling her to him and away from the two large privates. The girl was relieved. She felt safe finally.

"Where are you taking her?" asked the Colonel.

"To Major Bordon sir."

"Why?"

"His orders, sir."

Tarleton would never question another officer's orders in front of enlisted men or prisoners. He gently pushed Melanie back in between the two dragoons.

"Alright," he conceded. "Carry on." He turned to leave.

"Please Colonel," she pleaded. "Please no!" She was close to screaming now.

Ban turned back around toward the small group. "Calm down Miss Prescott. I'm sure he only wants to ask you a few questions."

"No he doesn't," she argued, trying to hold back tears. "I'm scared."

Tarleton took her gently by the arm again and pulled her away from the privates. He looked down at her with soothing eyes, trying to ease her anxiety.

"Look, Miss Prescott," he said in a low, smooth voice, "Not everything said about Major Bordon is true."

"He's relentless," she pointed out.

Knowing the girl was right, Tarleton forced a smile in an attempt to keep her at ease. "Well, he can be, but he knows the boundary line. He is not brutal to women. If he is with men, it's not without reason."

"Please go with me, then," she begged. "I'd feel better having you there."

"I can't; I'm heading out to a function this evening," Tarleton demurred.

Banastre studied the girl for a moment, who did seem awfully nervous. To him, that was not without reason. After all she'd been through and living in a strange place, it was not a wonder that she seemed so anxious.

"Miss," he continued, "I'm sure if you cooperate with the Major and answer his questions, that things will be fine."

"He doesn't want to ask questions," she interjected shakily.

Colonel Tarleton laughed. "What do you think he'd going to do? Ravish you?" Banastre kidded her, though improperly.

Melanie shook her head vigorously up and down. She wanted him to know that his guess, though improper, was correct.

The boyish faced officer couldn't help but crack a smile. He thought the girl was being absurd.

"You've been listening to too many rumors," he remarked. "Major Bordon is an officer and as such he can face serious consequences if he were to do that. I can assure you that he would not compromise his position like that. You'll be fine."

Banastre gave her an encouraging nudge back to the two dragoons. "Carry on, men."

Melanie doubted herself now. Maybe she was making much too much out of this. Certainly Bordon had taken his delight from her the other night and had no more use for her in that way. She knew that he and the other officers had their choice pick of the prettiest women in and around the fort and encampment.

The girl took deep breaths as she walked again with Privates Higgins and Perkins. She swallowed hard when they reached the room at the end of the hallway: Bordon's quarters. Melanie hugged her body tightly and shuddered as the men knocked on the door.

"Come in," Bordon said as he opened the door. Melanie dutifully stepped through the doorway behind the two dragoons. The Major did not greet Miss Prescott, nor did she greet him. She was too nervous.

"Gentlemen" he began in the tone of a commanding officer, "Would you mind waiting in the alcove at the end of the hallway until we're finished. I must ask some questions of a sensitive nature."

"Yes sir," they both obeyed. Bordon poured them each a glass of wine to take with them when they would relax and wait.

"You may have a seat, Miss Prescott," Bordon said as he gestured toward a chair in the middle of his room. She sat down cautiously, looking unsure at the floor. The girl feared meeting his eyes again.

Melanie continued to stare at the floor, hearing the men leave the room. Then she heard the door lock behind them, which sent a shiver of fear through her.

In an instant, she made up her mind that she wasn't going to stay there one second longer—at least not without someone else present. She jumped up out of her chair, knocking it over as she did, and ran to the wall. Once there, she pushed her back into the wall and watched Bordon cautiously.

"Well, it's plain to see you wish to stand," Bordon growled. He picked up the chair and shoved it back under his small table. "Suit yourself."

Melanie said nothing as she cowered against the wall, watching his every move. As he started to step toward her, she slid along the wall, feeling for the doorknob with her hand. When she got there, she turned and frantically tried to open the door, finding the door locked.

As the girl struggled with the doorknob, Bordon pounced on her, grabbing her arms. He held them tight at her biceps, just above the elbows.

"No. NO!", she pleaded as she struggled in his grip. Melanie felt him squeeze her arms harder, making her wince. His fingers pressing hard into her flesh, bruising it, made her stop fighting and let go of the door. The Major pulled her back to the center of the room, with her still resisting.

"Stand there and do not move," he ordered the girl.

Melanie froze, fighting the urge to run again, knowing it was futile. She closed her eyes.

Alex began to circle her ominously. "Must you make things so difficult? Things would be so much easier for both of us if you wouldn't resist. I should think you'd want to make it better for yourself, Miss Prescott."

All of a sudden, she felt his hand stroke lazily across her behind, even through her skirts and petticoats. She trembled as he did this, but did not move.

"It never ceases to amaze me how soft women are there," he smirked lasciviously.

Her face and skin felt hot, flushed with embarrassment. The girl also felt humiliated as this officer treated her like a whore.

As he circled a second time, he spoke again. "Take the top of your dress down," he commanded.

Melanie squeezed her eyes shut, trying to stand stockstill. "I'm not a whore, Major," she protested in a whisper.

"I know you're not," he purred, "That's what makes you so appealing."

The girl felt sick to her stomach. She could feel his blue eyes burning into the back of her.

"Do it!" he snarled.

"I …ca…can't…" she stammered, near tears now.

All of a sudden, she felt the cold steel of a knife blade against her neck. She gasped, genuinely afraid. The weapon made her remember how painful her stab and cut wounds had been as she recovered from the rebel attack.

"Perhaps you need persuading," he coaxed, standing behind her holding the knife just under her chin.

"Al…..al-right," she stuttered. "I'll do it. Just please don't hurt me." Her eyes were brimmed with tears.

The Major took the knife away from her throat, yet continued to hold it in his hand as if it was a reminder to the girl. He walked back around in front of her, to face her. "Don't give me a reason to hurt you and I won't," he warned.

Alex stepped back from her, wanting to take in the whole view as she shed her dress. He watched in silent anticipation as she raised her hands to the laces of her bodice.

Melanie's fingers fumbled with the ties of her bodice as she burned with humiliation. Her nerves were shot. She tried desperately to undo the laces, but couldn't seem to make her fingers work. Her hands shook too hard as to keep them steady. She soon found that her faulty fingers were making things worse: instead of undoing the laces, she had absently woven them into a mess of knots.

The young woman panicked. "I can't," she conceded in a frightened voice. "My hands are shaking so hard and the laces are in a knot."

In an instant, Bordon was standing close in front of her with the knife once again at her throat. She shrieked as she felt the point of the knife dead center of her throat. As it pressed into her skin, she moved backwards, as if trying to escape it. The poor girl soon found herself with her back against the wall, the point of the knife threatening to pierce her throat.

This was it. Melanie was going to die. She closed her eyes and began to cry. "Don't," she cried, her voice breaking. "I'll do anything!" The young woman dissolved into tears.

Bordon took the knife from her throat and brought it down to her belly. From there, he quickly sliced up through the laces of her bodice, severing the binding cords. The movement was swift, yet not an inch of Melanie's skin had been broken by the knife.

The officer took Miss Prescott's wrist firmly and pulled her back to the center of the room.

He left her standing there as he sat down on his bed. "Now. Take your dress down slowly," he instructed.

Melanie feared for her life. As she stood in the center of the room whimpering and intimidated, her hands found their way up to her shoulders. She crossed them in front of her and slowly slipped the sleeves off her shoulders with opposite hands.

"Look at me," he commanded.

Melanie raised her eyes to look into the Major's face. She saw nothing there but wanton lust.

When the dress was finally free of her shoulders, she pushed the sleeves down her arms to her wrists and slipped them out of her dress.

The girl now stood bare breasted before the Major. She trembled and sobbed, feeling humiliated. Melanie felt dirty and loathed what she had done, as it made her feel like a trollop.

"Come over here," he directed.

Melanie shook her head in disbelief. "Oh, God no. Please don't make me."

"NOW!" he snapped.

The girl walked reluctantly toward the Major. Once there, at knife point, he forced her onto her back on his bed. Alex Bordon moved onto the bed and straddled her body, admiring her supple breasts now bared from the waist.

Closing her eyes again as the major undid his breeches, she felt sick to her stomach. _"Not again," she cried silently inside. "Not again." _

He gathered her skirts up around her waist and forced her legs apart with his knees. Then, he penetrated her with a swift thrust.

The young woman gasped audibly, then drew in a breath and held it as she felt the knife blade again at her neck.

"If you cry out," Bordon whispered, "I'll cut your throat."

Melanie kept quiet as the Major had his way with her once again. She cried as he pushed and swerved within her. His head dipped to her breast where he drew her nipple into his mouth fiercely. He sucked on the delicate jewel savagely, causing the woman to wince in discomfort.

Down at her sides on the bed, Melanie's fists gripped the bed linens with white knuckles. She kept her eyes closed as he thrust into her.

After another moment, Bordon climaxed and left her warm and wet. As soon as she felt his body leave hers, Melanie pushed herself up off the bed and slipped the bodice of her dress back on. She quickly pulled it closed and tried to tie the remnants of the laces back together, at least enough to shield her modesty.

She bravely wiped the tears from her eyes and face as the Major opened the door and called to Higgins and Perkins, lounging in the alcove. She heard the young privates bound down the hallway and soon were at the doorway.

"Please escort Miss Prescott back to her room," he requested. To Melanie, the privates seemed oblivious to her, as if they were duty oriented automatons, existing for the moment only to follow orders.

Melanie put her head up, trying to retain what little dignity she had left, and walked past Alex. Just as she left the room, he spoke.

"Thank you, Miss Prescott," he cajoled, barely disguising it, "It's always a pleasure."


	18. Chapter 18 Taking A Stand

Chapter 18 Taking a Stand

Early the next evening, Miss Prescott's confidant, the house servant Bridgett, had finally returned from her journey to Charles Towne with two of the General's wives. Melanie, still distraught from her latest humiliation by Major Bordon, feigned a happy face at her friend's return. She could barely muster the slightest twinkle in her eye or a smile at the beautiful things the General's wives brought back with them while all the other ladies of the house marveled aloud over them.

Early the next afternoon following the evening of Miss Kilpatrick's return, Melanie sat alone in her room staring blankly at the walls. The girl kept to her quarters as much as possible, afraid to encounter Major Bordon.

A playful knock at the door startled her. She looked up to see Bridget rushing through the door, her arms full.

The Irish servant and friend dropped four bolts of fine material onto Miss Prescott's bed.

"Where were you this morning? You were missed at breakfast," Bridget commented as she arranged the material neatly at the edge of the bed.

"Um…I didn't sleep well last night," Melanie answered flatly. "I slept late this morning."

Bridget bubbled with excitement. "Hurry over here, Melanie," she called, "and help me choose some dress patterns!"

Melanie Prescott pushed herself up out of the chair with much effort. She dragged her feet as she crossed the room to her bed. There, she looked down at the pretty cloth, reaching out to finger the material. Looking down at her friend who was already pouring over dress patterns she'd quickly spread about the floor, Melanie simply walked dully over to the window. The girl plopped down on the window seat, and glanced forlornly out the window. She felt badly that she wasn't as thrilled over the fabric as her friend was. Her mind was elsewhere, occupied with distress.

The cloth was a gift from General Cornwallis. He'd given Miss Kilpatrick money to buy material for two new dresses and a ball gown for Miss Prescott. The Lord General had even been so generous as to tell Bridget to use any money left over to buy a bolt of material for a dress for herself. She'd had enough left to do so, and she was thrilled to have fabric for a fine casual dress.

Bridget called again to her friend. "Melanie, look at this!" she said standing up. The Irish girl stretched the material across the front of her body, draping the light blue cloth over her shoulder as if to model it. "Isn't this lovely? Can you imagine it? It will be the finest dress I've ever had!"

"It's pretty," Melanie replied in a soft voice with no enthusiasm. The young lady forced a quick smile at her happy friend. Then she sighed, and looked down at the floor.

The Irish servant girl dropped the imaginary dress she modeled, folding it haphazardly in a pile on the bed. "What's wrong, girl?" she asked, clearly disappointed that her Carolinian friend wasn't as excited about the prospect of new dresses as she was.

"Nothing," Melanie lied. "I just…..I…I….haven't felt well lately."

Bridget walked over to the window seat and sat down next to her friend. "You don't look sick," she said, reaching out to touch Miss Prescott's forehead, checking for a fever. "You're not feverish. Your cheeks aren't flushed."

Melanie gently pushed Bridget's hand away, and shook her head, brushing her confidant's worry away. "No…no…..not too sick."

"You're not pale," Bridget observed. "You look haggard. Maybe more tired than you do sickly."

Melanie said nothing and looked away. She felt Bridget take her hand as she stood up. Miss Prescott stayed seated, not wishing to leave her room.

"Come on, Miss," urged Bridget. "No wonder you feel poorly—you missed breakfast this morning. You must be famished. Let's go get some lunch. We can take it outside and eat. It's a nice day. You'll feel better after you've eaten. Then we can work on these dresses this afternoon!"

"No….no," Melanie refused pulling her hand out of Bridget's. "I'm not hungry."

"But you hardly ate a thing at dinner last night," Miss Kilpatrick pointed out. "And you were so quiet at supper. What's bothering you?"

"Nothing," Melanie stammered, "I…..I just…..don't feel like leaving my room today."

Bridget stood looking down at her friend, slightly irritated. She knew Melanie well enough to know that something wasn't right. The Irish lady put her hands on her hips, sighed, and cocked her head to the side.

"Melanie," she cajoled, "I can tell that _something's _not right."

Miss Prescott swallowed hard and closed her eyes. She wanted desperately to confide in her friend, but was afraid and embarrassed. The young lady looked out the window, as if trying to hide her expression from her friend.

In the hesitant quiet of the room, Bridget sat down again on the bench. She decided not to speak, waiting patiently for Miss Prescott to answer. After another moment of silence, Melanie spoke.

"Something happened," the young lady confessed. She looked away from the servant, not wanting to reveal the painful secret.

"While I was away," asked the Irish girl.

Melanie nodded 'yes'.

"What," Bridget asked with concern. "You can tell me."

Shaking her head in disbelief, Melanie covered her mouth with her hand. Confused, she couldn't decide if she should tell Bridget or not. She was still very frightened of retribution at the hands of the Major.

"I can't," Melanie answered, her voice breaking. "I'll get into trouble."

"You know I won't tell anyone," Bridget coaxed.

Torn between emotions and fright, Melanie was ready to explode inside. After another moment of the torture in her mind, she could no longer hold back. She took a deep breath, and her shoulders and head slumped forward, as if conceding defeat.

Bridget could see that Melanie was ready to surrender something very private—a deeply painful secret. She took her friend's hand in hers, holding it softly as if to reassure the young Colonial woman.

"I was raped," Melanie revealed in a whisper.

"What," Bridget gasped in disbelief. She squeezed Melanie's hand. "By who?"

"I can't say."

"Melanie, you _have_ to tell me," urged Miss Kilpatrick. "You can't let the rogue get away with it."

"He'll hurt me," Melanie whined.

"No he won't," Bridget coaxed. "Not if you tell the Lord General. This man should be punished for what he did to you."

Melanie fought back sobs. "He'll know it was me. No one witnessed it. It is his word against mine, so he'll know that I told."

Bridget pulled Melanie to her and held her. She let her friend cry as she comforted her.

Still clinging to Bridget, Melanie cried helplessly. "Oh, Bridget, please promise me you won't tell anyone."

"I won't," she vowed.

Weeping, Melanie revealed her fears to her confessor. "Bridget, oh God….he stole my virtue. Now no man will ever want to marry me."

"Oh, Melanie, that's not true," comforted Bridget. "Men marry women that aren't virgins every day."

"But don't they prefer unspoiled ladies?"

"No, of course not," Bridget consoled. "Most men are just happy to have a good wife. Especially if a man falls in love with you, then that will matter little to him."

After another moment, Melanie pulled back from her friend. She wiped the tears from her eyes and cheeks with her fingers. Still sniffling, Miss Prescott composed herself and looked out the window like a lost child.

"Well, if you can't tell me who ravished you," asked the servant, "then at least tell me when and where it happened."

The Colonial girl took a deep breath, then exhaled, steadying herself to reveal the details. "It happened in camp one night after returning from being shown off to one of our Generals."

Bridget said nothing, picturing a British camp and seeing Melanie being dragged away into the woods. She stayed quiet pondering her friend's revelation. The Irish girl opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted .

"And also here in the fort," Melanie blurted out.

"Twice?" asked an astonished Bridget. For a moment, she could not speak, too shocked at her friend's words. She could only watch mutely as Melanie shook her head to confirm what she'd said."By the same man?"

"Yes," Melanie confirmed.

Silent again, Bridget thought about all that her friend just told her. She came to the assumption that it was one of the Redcoats here at the fort. Her suspicions settled on His Majesty's Legion, since Melanie was taken often by them on General Cornwallis' little exploitation jaunts. They were almost always charged with her care and protection.

Speaking cautiously, Bridget wanted this confirmed just for her own satisfaction. She wanted to see if she could come up with a suspect on her own. Certainly the man would have boasted of his conquest. Maybe she would be lucky and hear some of the fort's gossip, and could then talk with Melanie. Hopefully, if she could confront her Carolinian friend with the name, then maybe the girl would consent to going with her to the Generals to expose this horrific crime.

"Melanie," Bridget began slowly, "it was a Dragoon, wasn't it?"

"Yes," Miss Prescott whispered in defeat, knowing she could not lie to her friend, especially after having surmised it.

Bridget probed carefully. "Was it one of the men, or one of the officers?"

Melanie nodded her head in silent refusal.

"Which unit was it," Bridget again queried, attempting to reveal just a tad more information from her friend. "Was it Colonel Tavington's? What about Tarleton's or—"

"I can't say," Melanie interrupted. "Please, Bridget, just don't try to make me tell you. I'm afraid of him. He'll hurt me!" Looking into her confidant's eyes, her own revealed that she was truly frightened of her assailant.

"Alright," assured Bridget. "Do you think he'll come after you yet again?"

"I don't know," Melanie said as she laid her head on Bridget's shoulder, "I hope not. I have been trying to avoid him. I just keep close to my room here so that I don't find myself alone with him and try to avoid anything awkward. I am praying that his twisted fancy for me will pass."

Bridget was quiet, feeling quite helpless as she put her arm around her friend's shoulder to comfort her. She wished she could do something to help Miss Prescott.

"Oh Bridget," Melanie said softly, "what if I'm carrying his child?"

"It's alright, Melanie," Bridget soothed, "Hopefully, it didn't happen either of those first two times. Watch your flux carefully over the next two or three months to make sure it happens. And pray that it didn't. Surely the Lord Almighty wouldn't curse you with your rapist's child. He is a just and forgiving God. Be strong girl, and pray."

~/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/~

A few days after Miss Kilpatrick had returned from Charles Towne, Melanie began to overcome her fear and started leaving her room again, usually in Bridget's presence. The servant knew her friend was still very afraid to venture out of her room, considering what had happened to her recently at the hands of a Dragoon.

One particular afternoon, Melanie had been allowed to leave the fort with Miss Kilpatrick and a few of the other servants. Miss Prescott had heard Bridget lamenting over how behind the servants had become with laundry and other chores, so she volunteered to help the servants with some of their duties, just to have a bit of time beyond the confines of the fort's walls—though the group would be accompanied by guards from the fort.

Outside the fort in a patch of nearby woods, some of the servants, including Miss Kilpatrick, knelt next to the stream, trying to get caught up on the mountains of laundry they had to wash. Melanie was busy out of Bridget's sight behind some bushes picking raspberries and blackberries for the cooks. Her basket was half full of each, one side for each of the berries, separated by a divider.

As she continued to collect the fruit, Melanie heard the footfalls of boots behind her. Now keenly aware of and distrustful every time a Redcoat approached her, she whirled around quickly, apprehensive. A young private, one of the regular sentries, passed by her and nodded his head at her.

"Good day, Miss," he said with a smile.

Relieved that it wasn't a dragoon, she breathed a small sigh and smiled back. "And the same to you, Sir," she replied. Then she turned back to the task at hand.

After a few moments, Miss Prescott gasped as she heard the sound of horses thundering into the glade. Not many of them, she judged by the sound, but she suspected who was on the horses. She leaned backwards, peering around a bush and looked toward the stream. She saw the tell tale red and green of the dragoons. Not wanting to be seen by any of them, but not looking closely to see if Major Bordon was with them, she pushed herself back into a nearby thicket, hiding herself from them. Even if Bordon wasn't with them, she was afraid they would send her back to the fort, not being able to trust her.

She stayed discreetly amidst the wild shrubs, hoping her presence there with the servants would not be discovered. In the next few seconds she heard the familiar voice of Colonel Tarleton commanding the guards to carry on. When she soon heard the horses ride off, she wedged herself out of the thicket and began gathering the berries again.

Nearly as soon as she had begun, the scent of raspberry was soon covered by the strong fragrance of magnolias, a flower that Melanie loved. She looked up, trying to spot the tree.

In an instant, Miss Prescott set her gathering basket down on the ground beside the berry bushes, and followed the breeze toward the strong scent. The young lady soon found the tree, which was covered with many fresh blooms. The girl wanted some of them for her room.

The lowest branches of the tree were within her reach, so Melanie had only to stretch a short way to pick one of the flowers. She began to hum absently as she looked the tree over, as if a judge looking for prize blooms. Miss Prescott was studying the tree so intently that she didn't hear the footsteps creep up behind her. The girl was oblivious to the fact that she was no longer alone.

"Found your way out of the fort again," asked a man's deep voice.

Melanie gasped at the voice, instantly recognizing it as belonging to Major Bordon. She spun instantly around to face him, pressing her back against the tree trunk to steady herself. The flowers dropped to the ground landing limply at her feet.

Suddenly and without warning, the Major bent down and stole a kiss from the young woman. Aghast, but reacting instantly to the officer's rude advance, slapping him hard him across the face.

A stunned Bordon stared down at her. He narrowed his eyes and proclaimed, "That was not wise."

"Do not think you can make advances to me whenever you please," she declared bravely, her stare mirroring that of the officer's.

"I will do as I please," Bordon asserted in a firm voice.

"Leave me alone," she defied.

The Major leaned down to try to kiss her again. Melanie could hardly believe the officer was pressing his luck by advancing himself on her yet again. Miss Prescott swung again yet to slap the man, but he caught her wrist instead. He squeezed it tightly within his grip and pushed her back against the tree hard. The young woman struggled to pull her wrist out of his grasp.

"You are in no position to tell me anything," he laughed as he leaned into her yet a third time for another kiss.

Melanie struggled still and turned her head away from the man. "You've stolen my virtue—isn't that enough?"

"May I remind you that you are a prisoner here and as such, you will do what you are asked to do."

"I am never _asked_ to do anything!" she retorted.

The Major glared at her.

Melanie continued to stand up for herself to the officer. " I won't let you take advantage of me anymore. Do not order me around!".

There was an ominous silence as Bordon studied the woman. "Your tongue has become sharp. Perhaps a little discipline will dull that razor edge." With that, Bordon reached behind him and pulled his riding crop out of the back of his belt. Melanie's mouth dropped open.

Alex Bordon slapped the crop against his gloved palm in a threatening gesture, then suddenly struck the tree trunk just to the side of her head with it. The blow came very close to where Miss Prescott stood, causing her to jump.

Melanie was too stunned and afraid to say anything. She trembled when he put the tip of the crop against her face.

"Do not force me to use brutality, Miss Prescott," he warned.

Melanie became aware of her labored breathing. As the officer towered over her, memories of what the man had done to her flashed across her mind. She remembered how he forced himself on her in his tent while out on patrol. The girl recalled how she was made to bare her breasts in front of him and how humiliating that was. This stewed inside her a moment, conquering the fear of the instrument held to her face.

Bravely, the young lady brought her hand up and pushed the crop away from her. She then said defiantly, " I am not afraid of you. If you want to break me, then have at it! I've got nothing to live for, anyway! I've lost my family, my home, my virtue, and now my dignity. I hate living as a prisoner. But sir, I warn you, do not ever approach me again with those intentions. I will no longer submit to being your whore."

Instantly infuriated, Alex slapped her with his gloved hand. Melanie gasped in surprise and pain, bringing her hand up to her stinging cheek.

Tears welled up in Melanie's eyes, which she fought desperately to hold back. Her cheek was hot from his strike, and her face flushed in embarrassment. She then put her hand down and looked away from the Major.

Bordon reached out to touch her face, red with a fresh swelling. She flinched as he touched her sore cheek.

"Let me remind you who you are speaking with," Bordon warned "Prisoners do not address officers in that manner."

There was an awkward silence as the girl stared pitifully up at the Major.

Alex pursed his lips, then raised his eyebrows. "Have you no more words of defiance for me, Miss?", he taunted. Then he smiled evilly down at her. "I like you best when you are this way," teased Bordon. He then lowered his head and brought his face close to hers and continued in a whisper, "quiet and submissive."

Major Bordon nudged his breeches down slightly, enough to free his rigid manhood. He then threw the young woman's skirts up to her waist and moved his body against hers. Still holding his riding crop, he put his hands under the girl's bottom and lifted her up slightly, bent his own knees, then impaled the girl upon his erection.

"Wrap your legs around me," he said as he began to take her against the tree. "It will be easier on you."

Melanie was appalled at his request, crying as it was happening again.

"No, I won't," she resisted through sobs.

With that, the officer brought his riding crop down hard against the side of her exposed left thigh.

Feeling the pain of the sting, Miss Prescott whimpered, surprised at just how badly it hurt.

"Do it now," he ordered through clinched teeth. "Or I'll hit you harder the next time."

Melanie immediately complied, bringing both her legs up and locking them around the officer's waist.

Her back scraped against the tree every time he thrust into her. Gravity seemed to force her down upon his erection. Never having had a man in this position before, he seemed to bore so deeply into her that it hurt.

"Oh, stop," she cried, "it hurts."

The major transferred the crop from his right hand to his left behind his back.

Suddenly, Melanie felt the riding crop meet the underside of her exposed right thigh in a hard snap. The burn and the sting of it made her cry out again.

"Don't make me use the crop again," he said through groans and pants.

She closed her eyes and bore his invasion as best he could, crying quietly. In another moment, he was spent and the girl found herself pushing her skirts back down as Major Bordon tugged his breeches back up.

Right after that, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her out of the glade. "Private," he called to one of the dragoon privates that had stayed behind with Bordon. "Bind her and take her back to the fort. She is to remain confined the rest of the day. I will deal with her later when I return to the fort", Alex said as he handed her over to the private. He then whispered more directions to another dragoon that stood nearby. The private pulled a bound Melanie up onto his horse and rode toward the fort. Melanie said nothing, sitting quietly on the horse, humiliated again.

Bordon laughed as he watched the pair ride away. He then picked up her basket of berries and carried them toward the creek to give it to one of the other servants. Alex sampled a couple of the ripe berries as he sauntered toward the others.


	19. Chapter 19 Cruel Consequences

Chapter 19 Cruel Consequences

Melanie kept quiet on the short ride back to the fort. Just inside the gates, she watched absently as Private Perkins dismounted and handed his horse off to a stable boy.

Her mind wandered for a moment, knowing what Major Bordon had in store for her. She assumed that she would be ordered to Major Bordon's quarters, where she knew he'd have his way with her. She only hoped he'd get it over with quickly.

The feeling of hands seizing her waist and being pulled down off the horse brought her out of her thoughts. Melanie waited quietly in the custody of Private Perkins as Private Jones dismounted. The girl decided she would write some letters during her confinement.

Once back on the ground, Private Jones took Melanie's other arm. The two dragoons led Miss Prescott away from the house. Confused, the girl spoke up.

"Why aren't you taking me to my room," she asked.

"Orders, miss."

"Where are you taking me," questioned Melanie.

"To the cells," Perkins answered curtly.

"What?" she asked. "Major Bordon said nothing about that!"

"Sorry, miss," Jones said apologetically. "He wants you held in the jail until further notice."

"But I didn't _do _anything," she protested. Melanie panicked at the thought of being put into a cell as a prisoner. She had not expected this. The girl struggled, trying to pull away from her captors. Digging her heels into the dirt to slow them down, she yelled "No! Don't! Stop! Please, you can't do this!"

About the same time, Colonel Tavington stepped out of the fort's supply quarters and walked toward the main house. He heard the yelling and turned his head toward the screams. His brow wrinkled when he saw two dragoons hauling Miss Prescott in the direction of the jail. Wondering what the matter was, he made his way over to the trio.

"Stop there, men," William ordered as he came closer to the small group. The two privates stopped and turned back to face the Colonel, still holding Melanie firmly.

"Here, now," Tavington barked. "Where are you taking her?"

"To the cells, sir," replied Perkins.

"The cells," the Colonel queried as he cocked his head to the side, certain the Private had made a mistake. "Why?"

"Major Bordon's orders sir," Private Jones answered.

William heaved a heavy sigh. He looked sternly at Melanie. She looked up at him, her eyes pleading silently with the officer.

"Well, what did you do to get into trouble," he asked the girl.

"Nothing," Melanie replied. She lowered her eyes and blushed, suddenly embarrassed.

"You must have done something or they wouldn't be taking you to the cells." Tavington could only imagine the worst. "Did you try to escape again?"

Melanie hesitated for a moment, not wanting to say anything in front of the Privates. She lifted her eyes to look up at the Colonel, then looked at the men holding both her arms. She sucked a breath in to summon up her courage.

Then she blurted out her answer. "Major Bordon tried to force himself on me and I refused to submit!"

Both of the Privates felt awkward after this answer and looked away, wishing they weren't commanded to do this particular task. Tavington only sighed in frustration and rolled his eyes.

"Nonsense," Tavington snorted. "Bordon is the last man to do that. He is the least of your fears."

"But _he_ _did!_"

"You _can't _be serious, Miss Prescott," insisted William. "Come now, what did you do?"

"I didn't do _anything!_" she cried.

Tavington grew angry. He hated hearing any fellow officer accused of such unbecoming conduct, even though he secretly condoned it from his men, letting them get away with it if discreet.

"Take her away," he said in a frustrated tone. The officer was in a hurry to get some other things done and didn't have time for this.

"Colonel, please, No!" she protested, screaming at him as he began to step away from her. "Don't let them do this to me!"

Tavington noticed that her protests were drawing stares from people within the fort. He stepped back over to the group.

"Miss Prescott," he snapped, "I will talk with Major Bordon, but for the time being, you will have to go to detention."

"But Colonel," she objected, "I've never been put in the cells before, not even after escaping." She was desperate.

William was silent for a moment, contemplating the situation. He did recall that the girl, despite some of the damn fool stunts she had pulled, had never been sent to the jail. But, he knew he could not undermine his Aide De Camp's orders in front of his men.

"Well, nonetheless," Tavington replied to her plea, "If Major Bordon has ordered this, he's done so with reason. He is my second in command and I trust his judgment. Take her away."

Tavington turned on his heel and strode away, leaving Melanie stammering in protest and struggling as she was dragged away.

* * * * * *

Melanie sat in the dank little cell for hours. She paced and protested through the bars. The girl sat, stood, sang and counted the prisoners, mostly colonists with an occasional redcoat, pass by her cell. Now, just before dinner, after a boring day spent in confinement, she sat on the bench in the cell with her legs pulled up to her chest. She hugged her knees and laid her tired head down on them.

After having drifted into a light sleep, an abrupt metal pounding against the bars startled Melanie awake. She looked up to see Colonel Tavington entering the cell. The girl immediately perked up and smiled in relief at the familiar face. She jumped off the bench and stepped toward him as the door clanged shut behind the man.

As they met in the center of the cell, she continued to smile up at the dragoon commander. Secretly relieved that it wasn't Major Bordon standing before her, she was curious yet, as to why it wasn't him.

"Why are you here," she began. "Usually the Major wants to interrogate me."

"He would, usually," answered William, "but he is your accuser."

He paused for a moment and watched Melanie's reaction. She closed her eyes and shook her head conveying her confusion.

Colonel Tavington inhaled and looked down at the girl with a serious expression crossing his face. "Miss Prescott, you're in some trouble. You assaulted an officer."

Melanie's eyes widened like saucers as her jaw dropped. "Assaulted?! _He _made advances toward _me_. I tried to defend myself!"

"You can't just slap an officer," he told her. "He is to be accorded with respect."

The girl opened her mouth to protest but a wave of Tavington's hand silenced her.

"Miss Prescott, why do you accuse the Major like this? You have nothing to fear out of him. He is a respectable commander. Out of all my men, he is the one who….." William suddenly paused, as if trying to find a nice way to finish his phrase, then continued on, "who……whores the least."

"So you don't believe what I've told you?"

"No, I'm sorry I don't," the officer replied. "If you'd have said it was one of the enlisted men, I may have believed you."

Melanie walked back over to the bench and sat down, sighing in frustration and clearly disappointed.

Tavington stepped over to the bench and stood above the distraught girl. "Now, because of who you are, leniency may be shown, but I can't promise you that."

_Leniency for what, Melanie thought. She did nothing but try to defend herself._ The young woman looked up at the Colonel. She protested. "But it _was _Bordon!"

William rolled his eyes. "I am so very tired of this." He began to pace in frustration, then stopped and looked down at the girl. "Can't you understand something? You are well liked and respected by high officials here. Lord Cornwallis, General O'Hara, they like you. Why will you not accept the protection His Majesty is offering you?"

"You treat me like a prisoner most of the time," she objected. "I've done nothing wrong."

"There is a war on outside these walls," Tavington began. "Do you really want to be out there starving and freezing; struggling, fleeing for your life? You are safer in here. When will you realize that?"

"But I did nothing wrong," she said as she burst into tears. _Why doesn't anyone believe me, she thought._

After a moment, William knelt down in front of Melanie, whose face was buried in her hands. He reached inside his jacket and pulled out his handkerchief. Taking her chin in his hand, he lifted her head and wiped the tears gently from her cheeks.

They locked eyes silently and Tavington felt the overwhelming urge to kiss her. But he remembered their differences: she was a colonist and he was a British officer. He could not be sure that he could trust her fully.

William brushed away his personal feelings for the girl and stood up quickly. He spoke as he tucked the handkerchief back into his pocket. "Miss Prescott, I suggest you think your actions through from now on. You may be dealt with harshly the next time."

Colonel Tavington turned quickly and left the cell, led out by a guard. Melanie looked up and watched him leave. She said to herself, "I already am."

* * * * * *

"Miss, Miss," the guard said as he shook the sleeping Miss Prescott's shoulder. "Wake up, Miss."

Melanie awoke slowly and looked around, disoriented for the moment. She started with a gasp as she saw the face of Redcoat guards standing over her. Sitting upright on the bench quickly, she pushed her skirts down and straightened out her dress properly.

The young woman had, by Major Bordon's orders, remained in the cell for the rest of the day. She rejected the crude supper served to her around 7:00, as she had no appetite. Tired after her long, boring day in the jail, she finally stretched out on the hard wooden bench and tried to relax. Melanie laid awake for an hour or so, her mind anxious and worried over what would happen to her later after her release. Finally, the girl fell into sleep and slept soundly until the men had awakened her.

Now, she said nothing, afraid to talk, as she folded her hands primly in her lap. After an awkward silence between she and the guards, she looked innocently up at them and broke the silence. "Might I inquire as to what time it is?"

"Just after Midnight," a guard answered. The man turned and crossed the small cell to the door. Melanie watched him from her bench. She listened as the keys clinked and clanked against each other and the metal bars. While intently watching the jailer, she felt the other guard arm grip her tightly and lift her to her feet.

The door swung open and the soldiers were soon escorting her by both her arms out of the cell. Melanie immediately became anxious and worried. "Where are you taking me?" She prayed silently that it wasn't to Major Bordon's quarters.

The soldier answered, "Back to your room, Miss."

_"Thank God," she thought as she let out a sigh of relief. "He didn't come to get me himself. He's probably out on patrol tonight." At least she would have a reprieve before he would "deal" with her. She was happy that she would be able to spend the night in her own bed in the security of her room._

The group soon crossed the compound to the main house. The men continued their hold on the young woman as they escorted her into the house. They ascended the stairway and soon found themselves outside the door of her room.

Melanie thanked the guard for opening the door, which she quickly closed behind her. She stood quietly in the darkness of the room as her eyes adjusted to the dark. Happy to be back in her quarters, she padded softly over to the small table. Once there, she groped around for the oil lamp. Her fingers soon found and lit it. After replacing the globe carefully upon the lamp, she touched the wheel to adjust the low flame up.

Before she could, she jumped when she felt a man's large hand clamp over her mouth and pull her back against his body. Frightened, she whimpered behind the hand, which muted her cries. Melanie could feel the body of the man she was pressed against and recognized the touch of his hand. Then she heard the voice.

"Time to deal with you now, my dear." It was Bordon. He had hidden himself quietly in her room in the shadows after instructing the men to retrieve her from the cells.

Melanie struggled with him as he dragged her backwards. Tears filled her eyes when she was unable to call for help. She shook her head, Bordon's hand still covering her mouth, back and forth vigorously, trying to stop his assault.

Quickly, he spun her around and threw her roughly onto the bed. He reached down and turned her body over so that she lay prone in one swift move. Then his body landed on top of hers on the bed, holding her down. With one hand, he pushed her face into the bedspread to muffle her screams, and wrestled one of her arms out from under him with the other. He put his lips close to her ear and whispered a warning. "If you scream, you'll be sorry. I'll go harder on you and you'll find yourself back in the cells."

Melanie, starting to weep, yet deathly afraid to be thrown back in the jail, answered weakly, "I won't. I won't."

With that, the Major let go of her head. Melanie raised it slightly off the bed, enough to get a large gulp of air. She sniffled and tried to keep her whimpers in check, just wanting him to get it over with quickly.

Bordon reached under his body, which still pinned Miss Prescott to the bed, and found her other arm. As he pulled it out and above her head on the pillow, his other hand reached behind him into his belt. Melanie didn't fight the man; she laid quietly and complacently, hoping that if she didn't struggle, he'd get his pleasure quickly and leave her alone.

To Melanie's alarm, she found Bordon's strong hand gripping both of hers tightly, stretching her arms toward the bedpost. She panicked. "No. No, please don't!" she pleaded in a soft voice, forcing herself not to scream.

"I don't feel like fighting you tonight," Alex declared, pulling her arms up to the knob top of the bedpost. The officer quickly spun the rope around her wrists, then wove it between them and the bedpost equally as fast. He stretched himself above her, straddling her prone body to keep her down. He finished tying her wrists, binding them tightly to the bedpost. Melanie winced as he tied off the final knot, feeling heat in her wrists and throbbing in her hands.

"Please untie me," she begged. "It's too tight. I promise I won't struggle. I'll do what you want!"

"No," he replied sternly. "You can't be trusted, so you have to be bound."

So, Melanie lay prone on her bed, her arms stretched up in front of and over her head, lashed to the bed. She wept as her arms and ribs felt painfully stretched. And after another moment, she lost the feeling in her hands. She sobbed a little more when she heard the now familiar sound of Bordon unfastening his breeches. The girl hid her eyes in the sleeve on her upper arm as she felt Bordon push her skirt and petticoats up. She tried to prepare and compose herself as she knew the officer was readying to enter her.

Alex Bordon penetrated her with a swift thrust, making her wince. As he moved in and out of her without a care, Melanie whimpered as the tip of him hit her insides. It seemed to her as if he was deeper inside of her than he had ever been. She laid there and took it, unable to do much to fight him.

After another moment, Bordon suddenly stopped, pulling himself out of her. Melanie breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed. The girl wondered why he had stopped, for he hadn't climaxed yet. She was grateful that he had anyway.

Miss Prescott held her breath a moment, wondering what the Major was going to do next. She prayed that he would pull her skirt down and untie her, but she suspected that he wasn't done yet. Melanie hoped that he wouldn't hit her.

She felt his hands on the back of her bare thighs. They moved slowly up her legs and came to rest on her buttocks, one hand on each side of it. Firmly, his hands spread her cheeks apart and his body shifted slightly, as if readying to enter her again. Then she felt the smooth tip of him touching her where a man had not taken her before.

In an instant, a memory flashed across her mind. She remembered overhearing her brother speaking in a hushed tone one day to her fiancé, telling him the news of one of his soldier friends. Matthew had ministered to the man, who had been violated intimately by a British commander that had a penchant for young men. Melanie realized that she was about to be taken sexually in this same manner; as a man would have another man.

The girl panicked. "No! Don't!," she cried. "Not _this _way! Not like this! Please no!"

She shuddered as she felt Bordon's breath in her ear. "Miss Prescott, I am going to have you this way. You may choose to submit or resist. If you fight me, I shall have to force myself into you, making it more unpleasant. Or perhaps you'd like a rough entry?"

Melanie shook her head furiously. "No," she sobbed. "No."

"Are you going to let me have my way?," he asked.

Crying a little harder now, she shook her head 'yes'. Then she felt him start to push the tip of himself into her. She flinched as he did, squirming to try and get away, though bound still.

"If you struggle," Bordon began ominously, "it will hurt worse. I suggest you just lie there and take it."

The young woman tried bravely to hold back tears, and to prepare herself for his invasion of her. She was panting now in fright of what was to happen.

Major Bordon's manhood was stiff and slick with her fluids. He pressed himself slowly into her. Immediately, her body rebelled.

The muscles in that virgin area of her body began to clinch in an effort to refuse further penetration. Her body tensed and tightened, trying to force him out of the orifice. Bordon did not stop, sliding his member in carefully and insistently.

Alex groaned deeply as the walls in this area clenched tightly his hardness. After a few seconds, he began slowly to move in and out of her.

Her body's involuntary resistance just made things worse. The walls and muscles of that area weren't as pliable as those of her vagina. It was uncomfortable, causing her to cry aloud.

"No. Please stop," she begged. "It hurts."

Alex did not listen, caught up in his own manly feelings. Just a few more thrusts would bring his satisfaction.

Realizing that the officer was not going to stop, Melanie tried to quiet herself down. She did her best to fight the powerful sobs and shakes that wracked her body. The girl attempted to slow her breathing and calm down, hoping to accommodate the Major's large size in the delicate virgin area.

Miss Prescott squeezed her eyes shut, hoping it would be over soon. She did her best to accept it so that he could move with little resistance and ease her own discomfort.

Then Bordon became a little more jovial with his trusts, enjoying the tightness of the area. He urged himself on toward completion.

As he continued to sodomize her, she cried and screamed into her pillow which muffled the sound. The material soon became saturated with her tears. Melanie's knuckles were white as she clenched her fists, holding on to the ropes which bound her.

"Oh……Ahhh…." Bordon moaned as he climaxed. Then he collapsed on top of her, lying still for a moment with only the sound of Melanie's sobs.

Without a word, the Major withdrew himself from the girl. He wiped himself off on her skirt, then fastened his breeches shut again. He climbed off her body and stood up from the bed.

As he straightened his jacket, he uttered a cruel jibe. "It's always a pleasure, Miss Prescott—at least for me. You would find satisfaction in it also if you weren't so…..proper."

With that he walked to the door. Stopping there, he observed proudly, "Well, I've had the dubious honor of taking your virginity more than once." Quickly, he turned and left the room, leaving Miss Prescott tied to the bed post.

Melanie sobbed hard with defeat, realizing that she would probably never escape this. She cried as she thought about spending the rest of the war here, a slave to the Major's passions.

After a moment, Melanie pulled herself up onto her knees, her body sore and burning after Major Bordon's invasion. She tried to pull her wrists free of the ropes which held them, but she could not. The more she seemed to struggle, the more the bindings seemed to tighten and twist her wrists. The girl wept again, unable to free herself of the bonds, not knowing what would happen to her should the major return.


	20. Chapter 20 Rage

Chapter 20 Rage

"Will you meet me again when I return?"

"Yes," Bridget replied in a giddy whisper. The Irish girl suddenly felt shy and vulnerable as she looked up at Captain James Wilkins' handsome face. Her eyes could discern his dashing smile, even in the dark.

"May I kiss you goodnight, Miss Kilpatrick?" the officer asked as he looked down at her. The faint moonlight illuminated her pretty face just enough to see the light red freckles that dotted her cheeks.

The Fort had settled down for the night. From the discreet darkness of their little corner, the servant girl and the officer saw the gate sentries and an occasional lone person cross the courtyard. Captain Wilkins felt certain that no one could see them in their hiding place.

"Yes," answered Bridget, "you may."

The young Irish woman shivered with excitement as she felt the Captain take her hand. She watched him as he bent his tall frame slightly forward, then closed her eyes as she felt his lips softly graze her hand.

He was just as she expected: a gentleman. Miss Kilpatrick was thrilled to be treated with such manners. She remembered how the few men in Ireland that had drifted into her life had treated her: lowly. And now finally, the man she liked returned her affection courteously, just as a well brought up country Colonial gentry should.

Captain Wilkins protectively walked her to the edge of the darkness. "I'll send a message to you when I get back in a couple of days." He remained in the shadows at the edge of the porch, watching her as she disappeared into the main house.

Once inside, Bridget climbed the stairs effortlessly, as if floating on a cloud. She was bursting inside and wished to share the news with Miss Prescott of her first midnight rendezvous with Captain Wilkins. The servant knew Melanie would want to know, since she and Jim had known each other in the past.

The house was quiet as Bridget stepped onto the third floor landing. Even in the faint light coming in through the window at the end of the hallway, she spotted Melanie's door which was closed. The young Irish woman seemed to sail down the length of the hallway, ready to tell her friend everything.

Miss Kilpatrick rapped quietly on the door of Melanie's flat. "Melanie, are you awake?" she whispered through the door. When there was no answer, the servant gently turned the doorknob and slipped into the room, thinking Melanie was asleep. Bridget decided to wake her friend up and tell her the news.

As she closed the door quietly behind her, the young Irish woman heard muffled sobs. Miss Kilpatrick neared the bed and in the dark could see Melanie's rumpled silhouette slumped against the headboard.

"Melanie?" Bridget called, drawing ever closer to the bed.

"Bridget," she sniffled weakly, "Help me. He tied me up."

"Jesus, Mary, Joseph," the Irish servant gasped when she was close enough to make out her friend's bound wrists in the darkness. "What happened? I thought you were in the cells?"

The young Irish woman felt around the nightstand in the dark. She pulled the drawer open and instantly her fingers fell upon some matches. Miss Kilpatrick struck one and quickly lit the candle on the night table. Then, she carried the candlestick toward the table and set the oil lamp aglow as well.

Melanie answered her as she did this. "I was," Melanie stammered. "They freed me. I'd have been safer to have stayed there."

Bridget, concerned for her friend, quickly forgot the news she wanted to share with Melanie. The servant moved about the room, pulling open drawers and rummaging through them, looking for something sharp to cut Miss Prescott free.

"Hurry, Bridget," Melanie pleaded. "My wrists hurt and I can't feel my hands."

"I'm trying," soothed Bridget. "I can't seem to find anything sharp."

_"HURRY,"_ urged Melanie, her voice frantic and scared. "I need to get out of this room. I'm afraid he'll come back."

Miss Kilpatrick gave up her search and sat down next to Melanie on the bed. The servant knew something terrible had happened and that the young colonial was awfully frightened.

"I'm sorry, girl," Bridget apologized. "I'm going to have to leave you for a moment to get a knife from the kitchen."

"He'll hurt me again," Melanie wept. She hadn't heard a word the servant said.

"Melanie, did you hear me? I must go to the kitchens to get—"

"No!, " she cried, interrupting Bridget. "Don't leave me here alone! He'll come back for me! Please get me out of here! Help me hide!" Her voice was insane with fear.

"Alright," Bridget calmed, "I'll stay with you, but I've nothing to cut your bonds."

Just then, Melanie bucked up and began frantically pulling away from the bedpost, trying crazily to break the ropes holding her. The more she pulled, the more her bonds tightened. She winced aloud, feeling as if she was going to dislocate her shoulders.

Bridget stood up and took a step back from the bed. She looked on in horror at her friend's mad actions. The servant could see that was only the girl was only making things worse and knew she had to calm the girl down quickly.

She sat back down on the bed and put her hands gently on Miss Prescott's shoulders. "Melanie, Melanie," she cajoled," Please stop this. Your wrists are swollen so you cannot slip them out. You're making things worse."

Melanie struggled another moment, then collapsed into Bridget's arms, panting and exhausted from fighting her bonds. The poor girl began to weep uncontrollably as Bridget held her.

The Irish woman let her friend cry for a moment, letting her wear herself down further to the point that she could no longer fight. She stroked her hair back and noticed tears and rips in her dress, knowing there had been a struggle. She consoled her another minute, then spoke softly.

"Melanie," she coaxed, "tell me what happened. Who did this to you?"

"I can't…..say," stuttered the young girl. "If I tell, he'll hurt me again."

"I'd say that he's already hurt you enough," Bridget whispered, trying to keep her voice calm in order to keep Melanie in control. "Nothing can be done if you don't tell someone about this."

"They won't believe me," sobbed Melanie, heaving breaths.

Not knowing what to say to this, Bridget sat quietly another moment, listening to Melanie heave and sob, sucking in breaths, holding them, and sniffling all the while. As she held her friend and consoled her, she made the decision to go for help as soon as the girl calmed down a bit more.

"Oh, Bridget," she wept," It was horrible! He raped me again, here in my own room!" She began crying full scale again.

"While you were tied up," Bridget questioned.

"Yes, but that's not all he did."

"What else happened?"

"Oh, God, he….he….." stammered Melanie in between hard sobs, "Oh My God!..He…He…" Her voice dissolved again into tears.

"He what?" Bridget asked in a comforting voice. She truly wanted to help her friend.

"Oh, I can't even say it," the girl cried. "He….he….he took me as he would another man." She broke down completely into another crying jag.

Bridget Kilpatrick was astonished at the revelation that her friend had been sodomized. Stunned and horrified, she tried to stay calm, wanting to comfort Melanie and calm her down, as well.

"It…hurt," sobbed Melanie. "I've…never…."

"Shhhhh," soothed Bridget. "I know. Don't talk, just rest a moment. I'm going to get a knife to free you."

Miss Prescott didn't argue. Exhausted and sore, she laid panting and sobbing against the head board. Her arms and wrists ached and her head was pounding. Her pelvic region was sore and her most intimate parts, those which Bordon had violated, throbbed and burned. She felt as if he had split her pelvis in two.

* * * * * *

Once out of the room, Bridget headed straight to Colonel Tavington's quarters. The servant had made an assumption that since Tavington's unit was in charge of her care, and since she spent only little time under Commander Tarleton's dragoons, that someone in the former group was taking advantage of her. Appalled, Miss Kilpatrick was bound and determined to make this known to the Colonel, hoping he could stop it.

She knocked assertively on Tavington's door upon reaching the second story of the house. Bridget waited impatiently, yet quietly outside his door for him to answer.

Inside the room, Tavington was eased back in his chair, reading a letter from his friend, General John Burgoyne. He sighed in frustration at the knock on the door.

"Damn it," he swore as he glared at the door from his chair. "Never a moment's peace. I can't even get through a bloody letter without some kind of disruption!"

He rose from his chair and called, "I'll be there in a moment."

William was in a foul mood this evening. During the course of the day it had gone from bad to worse with all the demands and happenings. He'd been reprimanded by Lord Cornwallis and General O'Hara both earlier in the day. In the afternoon, Miss Prescott had managed to get herself thrown into the cells and he had to deal with that. He was incensed at her wild accusations regarding his Aide De Camp, Bordon. Will was sure it was just another scheme on her part in an escape attempt. And in the evening, he'd gone with Banastre Tarleton to the camp with intention of whoring, but instead, let Ban talk him into a card game. Tarleton had completely cleaned William out of all of the pocket money he carried plus a few shillings and pounds that he didn't have on him. Will was irritated at himself thinking that he'd have a chance to win over Tarleton, an accomplished gambler, and was angry that he'd have to raid his savings tomorrow morning to pay Banastre what he further owed him. And to top it all off, William had been looking forward to releasing some of his pent up sexual frustration with his favorite whore, only to find himself with no money at the end of the evening to spend on one.

William threw the door open to find the familiar Irish servant standing at his door.

They stood looking at one another for a minute.

Bridget was taken aback by his handsome appearance, though she could tell he was spent and tired. She swallowed as he stood before her, stripped down to his breeches, boots, and ruffled shirt, undone at the collar, his hair long and loose about his shoulders.

Likewise, Tavington raised an eyebrow at the pretty Irish servant standing before him. He'd never taken a second look at her before, but after having been denied of a doxy tonight, she suddenly looked very appealing to him. His mind wandered lewdly, trying to remember the last time he'd been with a woman—maybe a few nights ago or so? Maybe she'd consent to treat him to a roll in his bed tonight.

"Colonel Tavington," she began, "May I have a moment of your time please?"

"You may have more than a moment if you'd like," he smirked, throwing the door wide open. "Come in."

She entered his quarters and he shut the door behind him. He leaned back on the door, looking down at her with a lewd smile on his face.

"Colonel," she said hesitantly, "It's about Miss Prescott."

The mere mention of that girl's name got his attention, causing him much confusion. He still carried an unrequited fancy for her, Growing hopeful when he heard her name, he wondered if the girl had sent a message through the servant. He secretly hoped she was declaring fondness and affection for him. But on the other hand, he was irritated at her this day for having gotten herself into trouble and subsequently thrown into jail.

"What about her," he said turning serious. He straightened up and stepped away from the door.

"She's been raped, sir," replied Bridget in a nervous tone. "More than once."

"What?" Tavington exclaimed in disbelief. "Is this some kind of joke?"

"I assure you sir, it's not. She told me herself, and I found her a few moments ago, tied to the bedpost in her room."

"Miss Kilpatrick," he began in a sharp voice that implied no nonsense, "You'd best not be lying to me." His anger began to rise, wondering if this was a mistake, a lie, or a scheme.

"I'm not sir," she urged. "I think it's one of the men in your unit."

"What do you mean 'you think'"? he asked, wanting confirmation of her words.

"I'm not for sure who it is," she answered. "She refuses to tell me."

"Oh, bloody Hell," William swore angrily.

"And tonight, sir," Bridget stammered, "tonight he bu—". The girl stopped midsentence, suddenly unable to talk of the most recent incident. She had never spoken of something like this before with a man.

"He what?" Tavington asked.

"He," she stuttered, "he……forgive me, sir…..he….buggered her." Her face flushed red, having never used this foul slang in front of anyone before, although she'd overheard men say it many times. She looked away in embarrassment.

Tavington's face contorted into an angry scowl. He could hardly believe what she'd just said. "Who did this?!"

"She won't tell me."

William reached over to his bureau and grabbed his knife. The Colonel then tore out of his quarters with Miss Kilpatrick on his heels. The officer flew up the stairway, skipping steps two at a time, to the next floor.

He entered Melanie's room without knocking with Bridget close behind. William stomped over to the bed, where Miss Prescott laid in a heap. She began to cry again, embarrassed when she saw Tavington.

The officer cut the ropes. Melanie squirmed painfully away from her friend and the officer, wincing as she did. She suddenly felt as if she couldn't trust either of the two that stood before her.

"Miss Prescott, who did this to you," Tavington demanded.

"I can't say," Melanie replied still weeping.

"Melanie, it's alright," coaxed Bridget. "Tell him so that he can put a stop to this."

"I can't," she cried. "He'll know it was me and he'll hurt me again."

Tavington stood up straight, clearly angered by her refusal to identify her attacker. He marched to the door then turned back to the two young women. "Stay with her if she needs you," William instructed Bridget.

* * * * * *

Colonel Tavington brushed past Lieutenant Scott in the hallway. He stopped his provisional commander as he passed him. "Lieutenant."

"Sir," he answered in a weary voice. He was coming back in from evening patrol and was tired. He'd been in command tonight along with Captain Wentworth, since Bordon and Tavington were off this evening.

"I want you to gather all the Dragoons," he ordered. "Wake everyone up. I want to meet with all the men at the mill in 15 minutes."

"Yes sir."

With that, Tavington returned to his room angry and wondering who the culprit was. He was so caught up in his rage that he did not remember Miss Prescott's accusations against his second in command. But that was of little consequence: he didn't believe Bordon had done it, anyway.

The Colonel tried to compose himself. He pulled his waistcoat and riding jacket back on, but left his hair down. Then he left his quarters and walked purposefully toward the mill, thinking how he would address the men.

A quarter of an hour later, Tavington's unit of dragoons gathered around him at the mill. Many of the men were still in uniform, having just been relieved by Tarletons' legion on the overnight patrol. Some of the soldiers' uniforms were still on neatly, as if they were going to leave the fort again in a moment's notice; some of the men's uniforms hung in pieces anticipating returning to tents to relax. Cravats, jackets, waistcoats were missing here and there. The men that came from the whore's tents and who had been sleeping in their own tents were dressed in breeches only, some with shirts hanging out.

Major Bordon was next to the last to join the group, still in total uniform but with his light red hair out of its queue. Lieutenant Scott, still in his full uniform, unshaven and looking haggard after just returning from a long day's duty, made his way into the circle last after he'd gathered everyone up.

"I think that's it, sir," Scott said. About that time, Alex made his way into the group to stand next to his commander. All the men could sense that Tavington was furious over something, only just controlling his anger.

Bordon wondered what the problem was and why, as second in charge, he hadn't been told. He reasoned that maybe a message had just come from Lord Cornwallis too quickly to consult with Alex about it.

In a stern voice, Tavington began. "It has come to my attention that someone under my command has been taking advantage of Miss Prescott."

The group was silent. Accusing and wondering eyes darted to and fro, each person trying to figure out who had done this.

Bordon kept quiet as he started into a slow burn. _"Damn it," he swore in thought to himself, "she told him! She told him after I warned her not to! Stupid girl!"_

Colonel Tavington held his tongue for a moment, as he perused his group of soldiers. His mind studied the face of every man, searching for the perpetrator. As he did, his own eyes shot accusatory daggers at each dragoon, wondering if one of them would break and confess. William thought that his second in command was scrutinizing the group as well.

The commander was wrong. Alexander Bordon was trying to keep his swirling emotions under control. He suddenly felt trapped, assuming the discovery of his crime was imminent. The officer blamed Miss Prescott for this, feeling no guilt for his actions. After all, he was a man with physical needs to fulfill.

Bordon's anger escalated as he imagined Melanie Prescott naming him as the culprit. Now worried that he would lose his position in the dragoons as Aide-de-camp, he vowed to himself to take revenge upon the girl before his impending punishment—whatever it may be. Alex took a deep breath to compose himself, pressing his lips together, trying to look commanding, instead of guilty.

"I saw her condition tonight myself," Will continued, "then spoke to her. She refuses to divulge the identity of her aggressor, even after being ordered to."

Breathing a shallow sigh, Bordon was relieved that Miss Prescott hadn't identified him. He raged on though, silently within himself, angry that the girl had "disobeyed" his command to keep her mouth shut. On the surface, Alex pulled himself together again quickly, and looked over at Tavington as he continued his general reprimand.

"Now, I'm sure you all have figured out that the Major and I often….,' William hesitated, as if trying to find the right word, then continued, _"overlook it……_when you men have your way with the female prisoners since you are usually discreet about it," Tavington stated. "But Miss Prescott is an exception to this. She is not to be touched by anyone. She is of special interest to General Lord Cornwallis as he feels it's his duty to protect her since he knew her father."

William continued to keep his voice at the same level, albeit still colored with anger. "That young lady has been through enough this year. She doesn't need one of His Majesty's soldiers forcing himself upon her. If I hear of this happening again and I find out who has done it, I will hang that man myself!" His voice went up a notch, his rage finally starting to let loose.

He eyed his group of men angrily. "Do you all understand?"

The men all answered, numb and confused that they were all reprimanded. They would have heard something through the ranks if one of them had had his way with the pretty young lady. But they'd heard nothing.

"Dismissed!" Tavington ordered, stomping out of the group immediately and back toward the house. He did not stop to answer questions or talk to anyone along the way.

Bordon stood silently for a moment, contemplating the issue as the others scattered away. He steamed at the thought of what this discovery brought about. This meant that Tavington would be watching the men like a hawk. His own commander had given a direct order that Miss Prescott was not to be touched, so Alex, even if he could find a way to get at the girl, would be disobeying orders. That would put his position at risk, just as Melanie's revelation came damn near to causing. And just the fact that she, as a prisoner, had violated an officer's orders to keep quiet about the events, raised his ire to a level near destruction.

So, with a scowl on his face, Major Alexander Bordon marched with purpose toward the main house, Hell bent on vengeance.

* * * * * *

Just after Colonel Tavington questioned Miss Prescott, then abruptly left her room, she dissolved completely into tears, melting into Bridgett's arms. She looked up tearfully at her friend and spoke.

"Do you think the Colonel is angry at me?" she sobbed.

"Honestly, yes a little," Miss Kilpatrick answered. "You should not have been afraid to tell him who raped you. He wants to put a stop to it. Don't fear the anger. I believe he is angrier at finding out what has happened to you, and enraged at the soldier who did it."

Melanie wept another moment as Bridgett continued to console her. As the Irish girl held her sobbing friend, she shuddered at how angry the Colonel looked as he stomped out of the room just moments before. Having worked in the fort's main house for so many months, she had seen and heard several outburst of anger from both Dragoon commanders Bordon and Tavington. She usually felt sorry for anyone who ended up at the wrong end of the officer's rage, but she didn't this time. She felt that whoever did this to Melanie deserved Tavington's wrath. Bridgett wondered silently where the Colonel had gone and what he was going to do immediately or in the next few hours.

Sniffling and starting to calm down a bit, Melanie winced as she raised herself up from her fetal position on the bed. Bridgett, lost in thought, hadn't even noticed her friend pull away from her. Miss Prescott's words tore her from her musings.

"I hurt all over," Melanie whispered. "He was so rough with me."

"A hot bath will make you feel better," her Irish friend answered. "I'll order one for you now. Will you be alright here alone?"

Melanie nodded silently. She watched as Bridgett left the room, closing the door behind her. With that, the young colonial girl rose painfully to her feet. Walking gingerly a few steps over to where her robe hung, she disrobed slowly and awkwardly, each move hurting her body. She wrapped herself in the robe and leaned against the wall, not wanting to sit, which caused her discomfort after the Major had violated her there.

Out in the hallway, Bridgett walked briskly down the hall and turned the corner onto the third floor landing. As she looked down, two black slaves carried two pails of water up the stair toward her. A third black man carried a tub for bathing.

Miss Kilpatrick called down to the men as they moved up the steps. "Who is that bath for?"

"Lieutenant Scott," the first slave answered. "Just got back from duty."

"Oh," she simply said. As she watched the first man step beside her onto the landing, she spoke again. "Sir, might I ask you to take this to Miss Prescott's room instead? She is in need of a warm bath immediately."

"No, Miss Bridgett, we can't," the young black slave drawled. "This is for the officer, and you know the officers come first."

"Yes, I know," she replied, "But Miss Prescott needs a bath now because she's been hurt."

"But Miss, the Lieutenant ordered us," he argued as the other men with the buckets and tub piled up behind him, waiting quietly.

"Colonel Tavington knows of her condition and would support my request to you to re-route this bath to Miss Prescott's room. After that, you may go back down and fetch the Lieutenant's bath."

The men complied and followed Miss Kilpatrick to Melanie's room, where they found her leaning wearily against the wall. As soon as the bath was set up, Melanie requested Bridgett's help with easing her stiff body down into the tub. When that was done, her Irish friend left the room, leaving her in privacy for a few minutes to bathe and let the water relax her broken body.

Some moments later, Bridgett reappeared in her friend's room to check in on her. The Irish servant also wanted to see if Melanie wanted to talk a little more about her ordeal, but the girl declined to. She was tired and only wanted to sleep.

Miss Kilpatrick helped her colonial friend out of the tub and dressed her in her night gown. Bridget assisted Melanie across the room to her bed, where the girl eased herself down onto it with a groan.

Bridgett hugged Melanie before the girl laid down. She pulled the covers up around her and looked up at Miss Kilpatrick.

"You'll feel better in the morning since you've had a hot bath right away tonight," Bridget pointed out. "The warmth of the water tends to relax your nerves and loosen stiffened muscles and joints. Stay in bed tomorrow as long as you want, and I'll check in on you every so often."

"Thank you," replied Melanie. "Good night."

As the door shut quietly darkness cloaked the room. The young woman stayed awake a few moments, shuddering at every noise and creak she heard. She tried to be confident that since Colonel Tavington now knew of her ordeal, even though she didn't tell him that his second in charge had done it, and would put an end to her erratic nights of terror.

Sleep soon overtook her thought, making her to rest peacefully.

* * * * * *

Major Bordon stood in his room, panting partly from the brisk walk back to his room and his uncontrolled anger and blame toward Miss Prescott. He stood another moment, reeling from the girl's accusation of rape by a dragoon. Then, something within him broke. He tore from his room, determined to teach the prisoner a lesson of obedience, and punish her for her perceived transgression.

The officer entered Miss Prescott's room, where she lay sleeping. He charged to the bed and jerked her out of it.

Melanie awoke with a gasp, not knowing what was going on. She felt two strong hands gripping her shoulders. Her eyes flew open, sleepily recognizing Major Bordon's silhouette. Immediately, she panicked.

"NO!, Please," she begged, her voice hoarse from crying so hard earlier. Her limbs were still heavy with sleep, rebelling against her instinct to fight.

Suddenly, Alex struck her across the face. As he did, he growled, "Colonial Bitch!"

The slap stunned Melanie and brought tears to her eyes. The girl instantly tried to bring her hand to her burning cheek but found herself being thumped against the wall another time. She groaned as her already pained body hit the wall a second time.

"Don't obey very well, do you?" he asked sneeringly. "You told Colonel Tavington about our little 'arrangement'!"

"You mean rape," she croaked amidst her fear and pain, forgetting herself.

Alexander Bordon began shaking her by the shoulders violently. Miss Prescott could hear her heartbeat thundering in her ears as her body flopped limply back and forth. Pain wracked her being. When she tried to call for help, she found herself mute. Unable to utter a sound, all she could do was weep.

"You're going to be sorry that you couldn't keep your mouth shut," snarled Bordon, hinting at her impending doom.

Melanie's sobs were unsuppressed as a voice screamed inside her head. _Oh God, No! Please don't let this happen again! Please stop this! _She could see how furious he was and feared what was to come next. Another rape? A beating?

Unexpectedly, Melanie was lifted off her feet and tossed onto the bed. The girl landed on her back and immediately felt the officer's body on top of hers. Finding her arms free, she started to defend herself. While weeping, she managed to get a hit to Bordon's upper body and his face.

The strike to his face caught him off guard. With this, he caught both her wrists and pinned them above her head in one of his strong hands. Angered that she would dare fight him, he slapped her again across her face.

Crying harder now. Melanie continued to struggle with the Major as he held her down. Her voice found its way back into her throat, although scratchy and rough.

Nearly inaudible, she uttered words amidst the tears and struggle. "I hate you! I hate this place! I hate what you do to me!"

Her throat hurt from her heaving sobs along with her chest, as she labored for breath during the fight. Words once again found their way into her throat. In a raspy, near whisper, she looked up into Major Bordon's eyes and remarked, "I hope the rebels kill you!"

Still holding her down, hearing her taunt, Alex backhanded her. With anger now completely out of control, his free hand found her neck. Melanie's body went rigid as his fingers closed ominously around her throat.

It was worse than Melanie had feared. Her sobs stopped momentarily, and a strange but disjointed braveness overtook her. As she felt his fingers tighten a little more, she knew the end had to be near. Laboring for breath, she managed to squeak, "Go ahead and kill me! You should have let me die with my family in the first place! So do it now if you wish."

When his fingers did not tighten anymore, Melanie dissolved into tears, wishing he would kill her quickly. After all that had happened this year with the death of her family, losing her home, her perceived imprisonment in the fort, and subsequent incidents of rape, she felt that dying was better than living this way. She cried and sobbed even harder after another moment, as if he was torturing her by drawing out the strangling.

The tears streamed down Melanie's cheeks. Unable to wrestle the man anymore, she felt what little strength she had ebb from her body, along with her will to live. "I had feelings for you once," she murmured, her head turned to the side as she wept onto her own shoulder, unable to look upon Bordon's face again. "I hate you," she sobbed.

The major's hands loosened a little, allowing Melanie to catch a breath. He hadn't strangled her, as she thought he would. Still desperate and wanting her own death, her hand limply found its way down the bed and both their bodies. It found his belt where her fingers traipsed across the leather blindly until they felt his knife scabbard. The girl began to ease the weapon from its holder.

As she did, Bordon's hand whipped down there, pulling it out with lightning speed before the girl could ease it out the rest of the way. Equally as fast, he brought the weapon to her face in a threatening gesture. She looked at the blade for an instant. Then she slowly reached up to his fist that was curled about the hilt of the knife. Gently and slowly the girl pulled his hand holding the knife down to her neck and placed the blade against her own throat.

She looked up at her attacker with tears in her eyes, her face begging him for something. "Go ahead. Do it!", she pleaded. "I'm ready to die. I don't have anything left to live for. It's all gone. Family, virtue, dignity, all taken. Complete this and take my life as well," she begged softly, her voice breaking.

Oddly, those words affected Alex, having a queer effect on him. He felt remotely calm as confusion vanquished his rage. The officer slowly sheathed his knife, let go of the girl, and moved off her body and the bed. Standing in the middle of the floor, he looked down at the young woman and unexpectedly felt pity, as well.

Alexander Bordon was amazed and stunned at his emotions now. Duty, command, fighting, and anger had replaced these emotions years ago when he came to the Colonies to fight for His Majesty. He had become a stone out of necessity as a soldier and to shield his own heart. For some reason, this girl brought back feelings he hadn't let himself feel since his years in England, which were wrought with bad luck and personal tragedy with matters of the heart.

It took a moment for Melanie, through her tears, to even notice that the Major had suddenly stopped his assault on her. When she didn't feel his weight on her body, she looked up to see him standing mute in the middle of the room.

Immediately, she scooted back in the bed to the headboard, grabbing the heavy brass candlestick off the nightstand, ready to defend herself if need be. She was confused and scared, too frightened to say anything, not knowing what his next move was. She was befuddled as well by her own feelings—one moment wanting his assaults to end and begging him to go ahead and kill her; next moment defending herself again.

Suddenly, Major Bordon turned slowly and tottered, almost as if drunk and unable to walk, over to the door. He hesitated once there, with his hand on the doorknob. Still poised with the candle holder, the young woman watched him from her bed, still afraid of what he might do next. She was thankful, for the moment, that his actions against her had stopped.

Alex turned back to Melanie and spoke softly to her. "I apologize, Miss Prescott, for my actions. I will not force myself upon you again," he announced in a distant, monotone voice. It was almost as if Bordon was not present in his own body, yet some strange voice was speaking on his behalf.

He continued in the disconnected tone. "If you feel you must report me to Commander Tavington, then I will deal with my consequences. I assure you that I will not touch you again."

"I don't believe you," she spat. "And I fear that the retribution and wrath would be worse than what you've already done."

"You have nothing to be afraid of," he said flatly. His tone of voice failed to convince Miss Prescott.

She shot back. "Except you!"

"No," Bordon replied calmly. "I can assure you that there will be no retaliation on my part. You have my word."

"Get out," ordered Melanie boldly. The confusion of the situation brought her to tears again. She couldn't understand why he was doing this. Her voice breaking, she wept, "Just stay away from me."

The man hesitated at the door another moment, not saying anything else. Melanie watched him from the bed, perplexed at his words, yet not believing them. She watched him disappear through the door.

Scared and absolutely confounded by the officer's amazing yet contrary actions, the girl was tired and fed up with the unwanted excitement of the evening. She pulled her sore and bruised body up off the bed with much effort. She wrapped her robe around herself and did not bother to light a candle. Knowing her way in the dark, Miss Prescott padded quietly through the halls of the main building and across the compound to the servant's quarters.

Once at Bridget Kilpatrick's room, she let herself quietly into the small quarters where the Irish servant slept. Melanie did not bother waking her up. Instead, she lay down on a small cot across from her friend's bed. Feeling safe that the Major would not find her there, she covered herself with her own robe and fell instantly to sleep.

In the main house, Bordon in his confused state, had wandered back to his room. Once there he stripped down stiffly, as if an automaton, then climbed into bed. As he lie there, he tried to analyze his actions and why they had happened just a few moments ago. As he did, memories of long ago came back to him, flooding his mind. The hurt he had inflicted on Melanie and her subsequent tears made him remember the pain he'd felt in the past. He felt the sting of rejection by his childhood playmate and first love, Christine. Alex remembered the broken heart he suffered when spurned by his fiancée, Mary. The man recalled the burn of deception that he and the Bordon family in England had experienced at the hands of that village trollop, Jane. The major recollected the anger and frustration he underwent as Paulette manipulated and deceived him.

The realization that he was causing another human, a woman, continuing pain and distress stirred his heart, soul, and mind. The memories and seeing Miss Prescott's reaction to his actions unlocked emotions he had buried, trying to forget them; trying to forget his own pain. Remembering his pain and seeing hers made him understand better what he had done and why he had done it.

Alexander Bordon felt guilt now that he had made an innocent person suffer to pay for the sins of the past. He cursed himself now, as he had let his rage control him, when he had wrongly thought that he had been controlling his own feelings and emotions.

Closing his eyes, he winced as the pain of the past pierced his heart again. Alex knew that his position as a commander and intelligence officer could now be in jeopardy. He would take his punishment as a man, but he hoped that Miss Prescott would not turn him in.


	21. Chapter 21 Redemption

Chapter 21 Redemption

Melanie Prescott snapped the yellow daisy off its long stem and sniffed it. She sat down for a moment on a nearby log and sighed. Tipping her head back, she let the hot summer sunshine fall on her face, warming her cheeks. The young woman closed her eyes and smiled, glad to be out this afternoon.

Once again, the girl had been fortunate enough to leave the fort, under guard, for the afternoon. The house and kitchen staff were scrambling to prepare a meal for a large contingent of visiting officers which had appeared unexpectedly at the fort. Melanie had volunteered to go with her friend Bridgett and some of the other servants to collect wild flowers and berries for the dinner.

So happy to be outside the fort, Melanie paid no attention to the Redcoat guard that stood nearby. Instead, she seemed to focus on the little things around her: the light of the sun, the gentle breeze, the smell of the wildflowers she had gathered.

The girl looked down into the large basket of flowers sitting beside her on the ground. As she gazed at the vivid floral colors, the sound of hoof beats nearing the area roused her attention.

Miss Prescott looked over her shoulder and saw a small group of dragoons enter the clearing. She turned back to her basket, looking intently again at the flowers. Suddenly, Melanie looked up in amazement as she realized that the approach of the cavalry had not fazed her. Just days ago, she'd shiver whenever she heard horses, worried that Major Bordon was with them and if—or what—he might do to her.

She thought for a moment and wondered how long it had been since that last, fateful night when the Major had attacked her. Five weeks, maybe six? She'd lost track. Melanie remembered the pledge he'd made: that he would not assault her again. It was a promise she'd never thought he'd keep. To her astonishment, he'd kept his word, avoiding and speaking little to her.

The young woman was relieved not to be living in fear. She marveled at the fact that she wasn't afraid of Bordon any longer. As she continued quietly contemplating her revelation, she failed to notice soft voices and footsteps coming toward her.

"Oh!," Major Bordon exclaimed as he rounded the bushes into the clearing. He wasn't expecting to see anyone sitting there.

Melanie gasped, clearly startled to see the officer standing within feet of her.

An awkward instance of silence and tension passed between the two. Melanie froze like a statue, and Bordon stood stockstill before her, neither knowing what to say or do.

The girl felt a cold shiver run quickly through her, like ice in her veins. The old feeling of fear came over her when she was once again in his presence.

Alexander could tell that the young woman was nervous and uncomfortable. He broke the silence.

"I'm sorry, Miss Prescott," he apologized. With a bow of his head, he started to turn to walk away. "Good day, Miss."

Confused and jittery, Melanie blurted out, "It's alright." She looked away, immediately feeling embarrassed at saying something so simple and stupid.

The Major turned back to her. "No, it's not," he replied. "I promised to stay away from you, and I intend to keep my word." The officer once again bowed to the girl and turned to trot away.

Melanie's mind was in a jumble as the officer walked away from her. She was still reeling from the astonishment of Bordon keeping his promise after his brutality. Her head spun for an instant, puzzled as to what to do or say. She loathed this awkwardness that was between them now and didn't know how long she could stand it. After all, she reasoned, she had no idea how long she'd be a prisoner at the fort or how long the war would last. The young lady felt the urge to put things right between them once and for all, so that they would not have to endure the discomfort of strained relations for the duration of her stay at the fort.

Miss Prescott jumped to her feet. "Major," she called after him, wandering a few steps from her makeshift bench. "I've forgiven you—" she said, suddenly stopping midsentence.

Alex turned back to look at her, puzzled. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Not wanting the Redcoat private nearby to hear anything, Bordon cautiously stepped back toward the girl. He was mute, not knowing how to respond.

Startled as she hadn't expected the man to come back, Melanie continued on in a stutter. "It's for the sake of my brother, who was a priest."

"I know he was," Bordon acknowledged in a quiet voice.

"Yes, of course you do," Melanie bumbled, remembering only then that he knew that already from intelligence in the area.

"He would not be able to rest easy," she continued. "He would want me to do the Christian thing."

Bordon stood dumbfounded and mute for a moment. Then he spoke up again. "How can you forgive me for something so abominable?"

"Because if he were alive," she began, "I would have confessed it to him, out of pure shame and sorrow. And he surely would have told me that God would want me to forgive you, no matter what."

Melanie turned away from him, taking a couple of steps toward a raspberry bush. She nervously fingered the apron she wore. The girl was revealing things to this man that she would never have said to another person before.

The young lady went on. "You see," she explained, "My brother believed that true healing could not begin for either party until the extension of genuine forgiveness."

Bordon stayed quiet, listening to Miss Prescott. He was astounded, not quite knowing the depth of her religious conviction.

"Thank you, Miss Prescott," he said, humbled. "I promise that it will never happen again."

"Yes, I believe you," she replied, "for you have honored your word." She smiled softly over at him.

With that, he nodded his head again and turned to walk away. An afterthought soon stopped him, and he turned back toward her. "Thank you…" he stammered, "for not reporting my actions to my superiors."

"I did," she confessed immediately before he could turn to walk away. He looked at her questioningly.

Melanie could not look the man in the face as she revealed this to him. She closed her eyes and sighed. "I tried to tell both Colonels Tarleton and Tavington." She paused for a moment. Bordon stood still and stunned at her revelation.

The young lady continued with her confession. "They didn't believe me," she said with a sigh. "Just like you told me they wouldn't."

Bordon's emotions were tangled in a sudden twinge of anger at her, which he suppressed, and relief that his commanders had not believed her. A flash of that night came into his mind: the sudden meeting called by Tavington; his knowing that someone had taken advantage of the girl; the Colonel reprimanding and then warning everyone to stay away from Miss Prescott. Alex wondered for an instant how Tavington had found out, since the officers didn't believe Melanie's report of the incidents.

Though Melanie professed to not being able to read minds, she guessed what Major Bordon had been thinking. "I believe that another person within the house alerted Colonel Tavington as to my condition that evening and brought him to my quarters where he saw it for himself. He demanded of me to tell him who had done the deed. I refused to tell him, assuming that he hadn't believed me before, and that he wouldn't believe me a second time. He must hold you in high esteem."

"He wouldn't if he believed what I had done," Bordon admitted with a sigh.

"Oh, so Colonel Tavington and Commander Tarleton are both saints?" she asked, a slight trace of sarcasm in her voice.

"No," Alexander replied, "We've all done things we shouldn't have."

"Of course," Miss Prescott comforted, wanting it to be perfectly clear to the officer that she had forgiven him. Also, some of her old feelings for him had begun to creep back into her heart. "This is war. Heroic—and monstrous—things happen every day."

Melanie sat back down on the log, looking resigned as she stared at the ground, as if at peace with the fate of that evening. Bordon's face flushed with shame, wishing he had not taken the woman against her will. He thought of the words she said moments before: that true healing could not take place until forgiveness was given and received. Alex suddenly felt grateful that he hadn't lost his position as an officer, and thankful that the young woman had forgiven him and held no grudge.

"If it makes a difference now," Bordon began in a humble tone, "I wish I could take back the wrong I've done against you. Actions overcame me and I wasn't thinking and I—"

"Major," she interrupted. Sincere and acquiescing, she went on in a calm, reassuring voice which seemed to melt Alex's heart. "I believe you're sorry and there's no need to explain things any further. Just be assured that you're forgiven and that I have faith in your word."

Caught off guard, Alex wasn't sure how to respond. He changed the subject. "What are you doing out here?"

"I offered to help the servants. Seems the fort has some unexpected guests for dinner tonight."

"Oh," he answered. "Well…. you could get hurt out here."

Melanie was puzzled. "But there's a private over there, and guards all around us here. And besides, one cannot be protected all the time." She reached down into her flower basket and continued pulling the leaves off the stems of the wild flora. She went on talking absently as she worked. "I can be hurt inside the fort just as well."

This statement hit Alexander hard. Just what did she mean? The girl had just taken the time to bid forgiveness and explain why. Was she now recanting her statement? Had she lied? Bordon suddenly felt confusion tinged with a small pang of hurt. Feeling like he'd been a fool to her words, he stood straight and rigid above her, as if in official officer stance.

"Well," he began with a hint of anger tinting his words, "I can see I have overstayed my welcome. Good day, Miss Prescott." With that, he turned brusquely on his heel and marched away.

Melanie, realizing what she had just said, heaved a sigh of exasperation at herself. She jumped off the log and ran after the officer. She caught his coat sleeve and stopped him. He turned suddenly, towering menacingly over her, looking down at her with a hint of irritation sparkling in those blue eyes of his.

Feeling badly, she apologized. "Major Bordon, I'm sorry. I didn't intend that to be directed at you. I meant that I could be hurt anywhere. Obviously, for I was nearly killed on my own plantation."

She felt the Major relent and sigh. With that and without thinking, she slid her hand down his arm and grasped his hand, just as she would anyone when trying to make a sincere point. "I meant what I said that I have forgiven you. My brother also taught me that when you forgive, you must do it with your whole heart. And that means not holding the misdeed against the person; that one must let the transgression go completely. And, for the duration of this war, we should be comfortable and civil in each other's presence."

"I agree," Bordon stated simply, a cautious smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Your brother was obviously a good and wise priest."

"Yes," Melanie agreed, bowing her head and sighing in sorrow. "I don't understand why the Lord chooses the fates that He does."

Alex only now realized that Melanie was holding his hand. It felt good to have her small, soft hand in his. He feared that she would start to cry, thinking of her brother's death, so he squeezed her hand reassuringly.

Melanie smiled up at him, her eyes glinting with the beginning of tears. She quickly blinked them away and her face lit up.

"Please," she began, tugging gently on his hand, "won't you come sit with me for awhile?"

The officer nodded, accepting her invitation. He let her lead him by the hand over to the log, where the two seated themselves.

"Maybe I shouldn't sit this close to you," he stated innocently. "I seem to be covered with this red Carolina dust that gets kicked up around here. I don't want it to sully your frock."

"You are quite dirty," she laughed. "Never mind about the dress and apron; they're old. I wouldn't wear my best ball gown to pick berries."

"May I have your handkerchief?" she asked.

The Major reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved it for her. Melanie then opened her small canteen of water and wet the cloth.

"Hold still," she requested. With that, she began to gently clean away smudges of dirt from the Major's face. He closed his eyes and sighed, luxuriating in the cool cloth and gentle hands touching his skin.

"There! All clean," Melanie squeaked.

"Except for the rest of me is going to have to have a dip in the old bathwater if we have guests at the fort tonight. I'm sure the Lord General will require all the officers to attend and look their best."

"I'm sure," she quipped with a smile. She then put the canteen up to Bordon's mouth, holding it as he took a couple of sips.

"Thank you," he said, clearly refreshed by the cool liquid. Melanie took a sip after him, then recapped the vessel.

"Well, what is for dinner tonight?"

"I don't know yet," answered Melanie. "But I've a basket full of raspberries and blackberries. And even a few Crabapples!" She showed him the baskets of the ripe fruits, proud of all that she'd collected.

"Oh, and look what else I found," she said excitedly, then stopped herself. She looked around and back over both shoulders. Bordon was puzzled as to what she possibly had. As he watched her hunch over slightly and slip her hands into her apron, he thought she acted as if she'd found His Majesty's gold or something as precious. He continued to stare perplexed at the girl.

From her pockets, she produced two handfuls of strawberries. She showed them to him with a large grin on her face. "A late batch. Probably the last of the season."

Miss Prescott smiled playfully at him again, which made him chuckle. "I thought you'd found the King's treasure maybe," quipped Alex.

"Not the King's bounty," she stated, "but the Prescott's treasure!"

"Hmmmm?"

"My family grew strawberries on our farm," she stated.

"Oh yes," Alex recalled. "And a vast orchard there, as well."

"Yes! Apples, peaches, pears, cherries. Father even tried growing lemons and oranges, but the weather isn't good for them here. They grow better farther south of here, in the Florida territory."

Melanie studied the berries in her hands, as if looking them over and assessing value. She continued on. "I helped in the fields alongside the servants and slaves. Father believed that we should all learn as much about the plantation as possible, for we would all help to run it if he passed on before Mother. I can't even tell you how many hours and days and years I spent on my hands and knees harvesting these things. And at the end of the day, my dress would have the tell tale blotches of red on it. And for days it seemed, my fingers would be stained red!"

Bordon stayed quiet as Melanie reminisced about life on her plantation. He liked hearing her voice and how happy she sounded weaving aloud her family's history.

Miss Prescott continued on. "We harvested all the fruits. We kept some for ourselves, but sold the bulk of them to Jim's—uh….I mean—Captain Wilkins' family. They had a winery and made a fine lot of it! It always sold well. They were far wealthier than our family was. We lived comfortably, despite having to help work our own fields."

Bordon smiled at her, and she returned a smile at him. The strawberries still in her hands, she made another confession. "I was hording these for myself," she confessed in a whisper. "There aren't enough here to make a dessert or even for a fresh fruit bowl. But, I'll share them with you." She grinned eagerly at him again.

"No," he refused graciously. "You found them. They're yours. Enjoy them."

He watched as her fingers deftly popped one of the stems from a large berry. "Here," she offered. "Try one." With that, she put the strawberry to Major Bordon's lips and gently pushed it into his mouth. The end of her sensitive index finger met the tip of his tongue. As his lips closed for a split second on her finger, she felt herself shudder with excitement. The girl pulled her finger quickly and innocently from his mouth. For an instant, she thought that maybe she shouldn't have done that. Melanie hoped the Major did not interpret her spontaneous playfulness as being too forward.

She looked away shyly and giggled. Then she looked back at the Officer, swallowing the last of the fruit.

"Good?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Yes!"

"Well, here then," she said, gently pushing one handful of berries into Bordon's hand.

"Thank you," he answered politely. "I shall surely enjoy."

Like a silly school girl, she put her finger to her lips and whispered, "Ssshhh. It's our secret."

"I won't tell a soul," he smirked, going along with the little game.

"Have you had one yet?" he questioned.

"No," Melanie answered. "I was going to try and wait until I got to my room and have them tonight as a late night treat."

Major Bordon twisted a stem off one of the berries and held it up to her lips. "I'm obliged to give you one of my berries since you shared one of yours with me."

Melanie smiled then opened her mouth slightly. Alex pushed the berry gently into her awaiting mouth. Not thinking, Melanie closed her mouth immediately, finding the officer's thumb and forefinger wedged sensuously between her lips. The man did not try to pull his fingers from her lips; he reveled in how soft and wet they felt around the digits.

Melanie touched his finger and thumb with her tongue, tasting salty sweat and sweet berry juice. She was surprised at how comfortable she felt to have his fingers in her mouth and she delighted in tasting them. Forgetting momentarily the tasty berry on her tongue, she instinctively sucked ever so lightly on his fingers.

Bordon sighed and closed his eyes, loving the feel of her warm wet mouth on his thumb and index finger. Melanie watched in awe as she saw that Bordon enjoyed this. She suddenly felt self conscious and pulled gently away from him, chewing the berry delicately and swallowing.

"Good?" Bordon asked in a whisper, a hint of controlled lust on his face.

The young woman nodded, still staring into Bordon's eyes. Alex saw the unmistakable look of innocent desire in her eyes.

Alexander felt the overwhelming urge to kiss her, and he could sense that she wanted his kiss. But he wasn't sure that he should. After all, he had promised to be chaste and gentlemanly with her. And, for some reason, he wanted her to trust him.

For a moment, the two sat quietly. Melanie replaced the berries back into her apron pocket, then folded her hands in her lap. She watched Bordon out of the corner of her eye as he produced a clean handkerchief from another pocket and wrapped the berries, save for one in it. She raised her head slowly and smiled at him as he tucked the package into a jacket pocket inside his coat.

The officer rolled the strawberry gently in his fingers, noting that it was as soft as Miss Prescott's lips. He popped the top off the berry.

"Close your eyes," he said whimsically, "I'm going to feed you another berry."

"Alright," Melanie complied in a raspy voice. She felt a strange anticipation to feel his warm fingers in her mouth again. She longed to taste them; she liked the manly salty taste of them mixed with the juice of the berries.

The girl closed her eyes, and opened her mouth slightly. Bordon stared at her parted lips for a moment, wanting to touch them with his fingers, his lips, and his tongue. But he didn't want to scare her.

Alex put the large end of the strawberry in his mouth, so that the small end protruded just beyond his lips. He slowly brought his mouth to Melanie's, barely touching the tip of the strawberry to her lips.

As she felt the tip of the strawberry on her lips, she opened her mouth slightly more to take in the berry. As she did, she felt Bordon's lips on hers. She softly bit off her end of the strawberry, pulling it into her mouth and her lips back onto Alexander's mouth. With the berries softening and melting on their tongues, they continued to kiss each other's lips softly, tasting the juice of the berry and the softness of each other's mouth. As the fruit slid down their throats, they each opened their mouths a little wider, to taste the heat and lingering berry within one another. They continued to brush soft kisses across each other's lips, as desire drove them both to kiss open mouthed now. The bliss of the sensual moment was soon shattered by a shout.

"Major Bordon?"

The man pulled away from Melanie with a frustrated sigh. He looked into her eyes and saw disappointment there as well.

"Yes," he answered. He stood up casually, straightening his uniform as he did. "What is it, Private Tracy?"

"Sir, we're ready to ride back to the fort."

"Yes. I'll be right there."

The Private turned and walked back toward the others.

Melanie smiled shyly and looked down at the ground. She was blushing.

Major Alex Bordon was sorry that the moment had come to an end. Seeing Melanie's embarrassment, he put his fingers under her chin and gently raised her head to look up at him. He smiled affectionately down at her.

"Thank you for the strawberries," he drawled sweetly and genuinely, lust nearly closing his eyes.

Melanie did not realize that she was panting aloud, in her own wanton. She gazed up at the officer, not bothering to hide the look of captivation with the man and her own lust for him. She could say nothing.

The major continued on, talking slowly, unable to help the measuring of his words. "They were the most delicious and sweetest tasting berries I've ever had."


	22. Chapter 22 Finding Shelter

Chapter 22 Finding Shelter

Melanie sighed as the lukewarm breeze of the September day kissed her cheek. She brushed back some stray strands of hair from her face with her bound hands. The girl stayed quiet as she sat atop Major Bordon's horse, looking down at the officer who now stood before the beast, holding the reins.

It was near sunset and the small group of Dragoons was behind schedule. The men had stopped for a few moments to relieve themselves, making this the last stop for nature's call until they returned to the fort, only miles away. Bordon stood casually talking with Lieutenant Scott, waiting for a couple of the men to return from the woods nearby.

Being allowed to go first, Miss Prescott had returned quickly and remounted the Major's horse. Waiting silently on Bordon's mount and paying no attention to the men, she reflected on the events of the long day.

A small contingent of Dragoons had left the fort early that morning. Melanie had been awakened abruptly before dawn by a maid, told to eat breakfast quickly and ready herself to leave soon after with the men. Riding out of the fort at the first rays of morning light, a still sleepy Melanie had fought to keep from falling back asleep.

The girl kept quiet, knowing better than to ask any questions. Instead, she kept her ears open and at a stopping point at a crossroads, heard the men conferring about which direction to go and what the letter had said. She assumed then that someone had sent a message into the fort asking to see her. By mid morning the September heat had become stifling as Miss Prescott tried to guess what would happen. Would the rebels pump her for information that she knew Major Bordon would censor? Was Bordon planning to take back some captured British officer using her as bait? Was His Majesty's Legion preparing to give her up to the colonials? She could only speculate.

Just after lunch, the group had ridden up to some nondescript cabin in the middle of the Carolina wilderness. With white flag flying, the Dragoons had been welcomed in temporarily. Bordon, Scott, and Miss Prescott were ushered in quickly and introduced to Colonels William Washington and Francis Locke of Gates' colonial army, and a man not in uniform named Thomas Sumter. Melanie had deduced him to be local because of his country accent.

Within the confines of the log house, the girl sat mute in the corner as the Redcoat and Rebel officers sparred across the table. She soon realized that she was being exploited again by the British and knew that she would be going back to the fort tonight. Still, she listened keenly for any information and news of the outside world.

After three hours of what became mind numbing gibberish to Miss Prescott, the meeting broke up with Bordon nearly dragging her out of the cabin. Melanie could tell that the officer was mad, clear to her that he had not obtained whatever his objective was at the gathering. This was confirmed when the young woman heard the Major mutter, "That was a damned waste of time and now we're running late," to Lieutenant Scott under his breath.

Major Bordon's sharp bark brought Melanie out of her thoughts. "Tracy! Kidwell! On the double!"

"Yes sir!" the two cavalrymen shouted from the woods where they were relieving themselves. In a moment, they scurried back to the group just as the Major was mounting his horse.

Alexander Bordon let out an audible sigh as he seated himself in front of Miss Prescott upon his steed. The post meeting irritation from earlier in the afternoon had now turned into weariness.

"We've not much time until sunset," remarked Alex. "We're going to have to pick up the pace if we're going to get anywhere near the fort before dark."

The officer looked intently up the road, then continued. "I think we're eight to ten miles away. If we ride hard, I think we'll be within a mile or two just after darkness. Hopefully we're familiar enough with the area that by then we'll be close enough to be able to find our way in after dark."

A sudden gust of air blew over them, making the horse stamp. Bordon looked up at the gathering clouds in the sky. The temperature had dropped within the last hour, cooling them all off after a hot day. "I think we're going to get rained on, gentlemen. Maybe a storm," he observed.

Turning his horse back to look at his men, Bordon requested, "Let's make it quick men. We've no time to waste."

The officer turned his head slightly back and said over his shoulder to Melanie, "Hold on. This is going to be a fast ride."

With that Miss Prescott brought her bound wrists up in front of her and grabbed fistfuls of the Major's wool jacket.

"Hiyah!" the officer commanded in a lightly restrained tone. The assembly of ten Dragoons was then off, first at a cantor, then at a gallop. Melanie, riding pillion behind Bordon, straddling the horse as a man would, knew that her body would be sore and aching by the time they returned to the fort from the constant bouncing of the journey.

After an hour or so of tiring riding and in the waning hour of light, the band of Dragoons came upon a small road block of rebels. Even the always astute Bordon was surprised to see this. The group stopped a few yards back from the rebels, clearly militia, and hesitated. The Major wondered how many men may be hiding out in the forest to the side and behind them.

"Look into the woods and off the road, men," the major instructed in a low voice. "Eyes open. Observe everything."

Lieutenant Scott, who had been riding in the rear, trotted his horse forward meet his commander. Bordon leaned over to his second and commented softly, "I think that meeting was a set up to get us out of the fort. Let's assume this is a trap."

"Yes," agreed Scott. "Daring of them to stop us on a main road within only miles of a British fort. They're becoming brave—or desperate."

Bordon laughed haughtily. "Move forward, men," he commanded under his breath.

The group paced ahead at a cautious trot. After a moment of the pace, Bordon turned to his young Scott.

"Lieutenant, ride a few steps forward and give a warning," he directed. "I'll move back into the middle of the men to guard our ward."

As an afterthought, Bordon trotted up a few steps to catch back up with his Second. "Scott, there are only ten of us. Let's try to end this peacefully and get by this without a skirmish since we don't know how many of them there are, yet still, make a show of threat and power."

With this, Bordon blended back into the middle of his men. He felt and heard an audible shudder come from Miss Prescott.

"It will be alright," he assured her softly. "You're protected. We're going to try to end this peacefully before it begins."

The men fell into formation around Bordon as they rode on carefully behind Scott, all of them looking around into the woods, listening and watching for any movement. Bordon was wary of the situation, not knowing how many men could be amongst these rebels.

"Remember, Dragoons show no fear," he reminded his men quietly. "Let's make it threatening and hope they back down without a fight, since there are so few of us."

The soldiers nodded in compliance and everyone rode forward in caution. They watched Scott signal halt with his hand and held their place. The dragoons discreetly drew their pistols, holding them down loosely, waiting for a sign to move to fighting stance. They all listened to Scott's words to the rebels blocking the road.

"This is His Majesty's road," he shouted with dignity and confidence. "You are ordered to clear the path. If you do so immediately, there will be no retribution. You have our word of honor. If you don't, there will be bloodshed."

After a moment of silence between all factions, Scott spoke again. "These are generous and unusual terms given by His Majesty. I advise you take advantage of them. They won't be given again."

"Give us the girl and we'll let you through," the lead rebel shot back.

"No. That is not in our terms," Scott called back firmly. "I warn you to disperse immediately. We have the advantage sir, of being on horseback."

"Yes, your reputation precedes you," the rebel countered. "All we want is the Prescott woman, and you may pass."

"King George's army does not yield to traitors," barked Scott, "nor do we make deals with them. Again, we are giving you insurrectionists one last chance to leave without bloodshed."

"Go get her, boys!" the rebel leader shouted. With that, a band of about fifteen to twenty rebels raced toward the Dragoons on the road and from out of the brush.

"Charge and attack," Bordon shouted. With that, the Dragoons charged in pairs into the rush of men, fighting on horseback on the road and some heading into the brush to chase the rebels.

Alex quickly pulled his horse into the cover of the forest a few yards off the road, shooting his pistol from there. Watching the skirmish from the woods and cursing himself for having a prisoner on his saddle that he needed to guard, it pained him that he couldn't be out in full combat with his men. Still he shot alternately from his long gun and pistol, passing them back and forth to Miss Prescott to hold in between shots. She also held his powder horn and paper cartridges, passing them to him as he reloaded quickly and with precision.

Bordon continued to shoot from the protection of the underbrush until he saw a rebel get through the gunfire and making his way quickly toward him on foot. Knowing he had to protect Melanie, he shouted, "We'll have to outrun him." He pushed his musket back into its holder on the side of his saddle. Then he holstered his pistol as his heels pushed into the horse's ribs, making it lurch forward.

"Hold on to me tight," yelled Alex over his shoulder at Melanie. At once, the girl brought her bound wrists up and slid her arms over Bordon's head, bringing them down and wrapping them tightly about his waist. As the horse started to run, she buried her head in Bordon's back, scared.

After running and shooting back ever so often at the pursuing rebel, suddenly Bordon came to a stop. He let the rebel man approach him, covering the two on horseback with his pistol.

"You give up, huh?," asked the rebel man cautiously.

"No," Alex replied. "Don't you know who I am?"

"No," answered the young man.

"I'm Brutal Bordon. Isn't that what you rebels call me?"

"Oh, Yeah, now I remember," replied the rebel.

"Seems you have a choice here," Bordon cajoled. "Wouldn't you rather have an important officer such as me—a very valuable prize. Or do you still want the girl?"

Bordon watched closely as he could tell the man was making up his mind. Melanie raged inside, angry that Bordon was doing this.

"I'm by myself. Seems you've been successful at drawing my men away from me. I've no one to help protect me and a prisoner riding on my horse to slow me down."

"I'd take you both," said the rebel. "But just give me the girl, and then I'm going to kill you."

"Go ahead. Take her," Bordon said fearlessly.

"What!?" Melanie gasped in amazement and fear. She watched the man draw slowly near the horse to pull her down. As the rebel reached up to get her, he turned his back on Bordon.

In a flash, Bordon pulled his saber from his scabbard and swung, decapitating the man instantly. Melanie held her breath taking it all in. She watched in disbelief, astonished at how fast the officers movements were, seeming almost a blur of a continuous fluid motion.

"Oh," Melanie half moaned, half sobbed as she looked at the man's headless body lying next to the horse. Feeling sick, she turned her head away and buried her eyes in the back of Bordon's shoulder blade.

After a moment, Melanie began to sob quietly onto the Major's back. Then, with bound hands, she bravely hit him between the shoulder blades as he tried to return his sword to its holder. "I thought you were going to give me to him. You said you'd protect me."

"Calm down," he coaxed. "It was just a ruse to get him to get close to the horse and let his guard down. I have orders not to let anything happen to you."

Melanie wiped her eyes, then jumped with a gasp as a huge clap of thunder rang out around them.

"We'd better catch up with the others," Bordon said.

Still hearing gunshots, Alex knew the fight was still raging over on the main road. He decided to ride a little deeper into the woods for just a few more moments.

After another minute of riding, the two came upon a clearing. Bordon looked up at the skies, the storm clouds growing more ominous by the minute. The wind had picked up, moving the tree tops in a rough sway. Melanie shivered as it had turned a bit colder.

Pushing his heels into the horse's ribs, Major Bordon continued on. He entered the forest again on a narrow path hardly wide enough to accommodate the horse. Melanie buried her face again in the officer's back, shielding it from branches stretching onto the narrow footpath.

The thunder became louder as the couple continued the trek through the forest. The trees started to whip violently around them as the forest darkened from the storm clouds over head. Soon, they came out onto a cow path. With the storm clouds darkening what little sunlight remained, Bordon wasn't exactly sure where they were.

Another loud crack of thunder and blinding flash of lightening made Melanie gasp. Bordon quickly pulled out his map, trying to discern the cattle path they were on, but could not make it out, having to strain his eyes. He folded the map again and shoved it down in his pack.

Major Bordon was concerned now with the lightning and the wind gusting so furiously as to blow them off the horse. What worried him most was that it was almost too dark to see anything now and he couldn't pinpoint where they were in approximation to the fort.

"Where are we," asked Melanie. "Are we going to make it back?"

"I don't know," Alex replied. "I've got to find shelter for us now."

He kicked the horse up to a trot along the unfamiliar path. The officer looked around him, scouring the woods and countryside for a cave, shack, rock over hang or anything that would afford them protection from the rain and dangerous lightning.

As they paced along, he felt Melanie's arms tighten around him. Feeling her shiver against his back, he spoke. "Are you cold or scared?"

"Both," she answered, her voice dotted with fear.

"We'll be alright," he tried to assure her. In his mind, he was trying to think about what to do if they didn't find shelter soon. Quickly pitching a small, makeshift tent, or throwing together a small shelter of branches and brush was an option for protection from the rain. But he knew it would not stand up to the raging winds and fierce lightening of this storm.

The Major stopped his horse. Melanie looked about her, wondering if he'd heard or seen something in the woods. She felt his left arm reach downward, then recognized the familiar brushing sound of him pulling his knife from its scabbard. In a flash she forgot about the impending storm and instinctively reacted to the sound with a startled gasp.

"Hold still," the officer requested.

Melanie complied as there wasn't much she could do in the way of movement with her hands tethered together just in front of Major Bordon's stomach. The man quickly pulled her hands away from his middle and held them still with his hand. With dagger in the other hand, he sliced through her bonds, cutting her free.

The girl pulled her freed arms back toward her and massaged in turn each of her sore wrists. Bordon sheathed his knife, then spoke.

"Lean back a little," he asked in a quiet, concerned voice.

Miss Prescott put her arms behind her on the back rim of the saddle, bracing herself as she leaned backward. She watched the Major as he quickly shed his jacket.

"Here," he said as he handed her the red and green wool wrap.

"Thank you," she replied as she donned his uniform coat.

"Hold on, Miss Prescott," Bordon directed, "I'm going to nudge Galahad to move us along a little faster here."

The young lady willingly slipped her arms around his waist again and clasped her small hands together in front of him. As the officer's horse moved along at a trot, Bordon strained in the darkness around him to find a shelter for them. The man was so intent to locate a place of protection that he didn't notice Melanie's fingers absently tracing the gold buttons of his waistcoat.

The officer and the young woman rode on in silence. Her arms still wrapped about Bordon's waist, Melanie could feel the stiffness in his body. She sensed that the usually fearless officer was apprehensive that they were separated from the other dragoons—more so then he let on.

Soon, plump drops of rain began to fall sparingly from the darkened clouds above, spotting their clothes. The wind continued to whip the trees and long grass about the path, with bolts of lightning flashing about the sky. The drums of thunder made Bordon's steed want to shy from the path, making the officer work harder with his legs and the reins to keep the beast under control.

In another moment, they rounded a bend and Bordon noticed the trees thinning out to his right. He slowed the horse up a bit and squinted into the darkness. An instant later, a streak of lightening lit up the area about them, allowing the officer to discern a shape through the trees. Peering into the trees from the back of the horse, Melanie wasn't sure what the Major was looking at.

A few seconds later another flash of lightening illuminated the trees. Bordon's sharp eyes, accustomed to looking about him for signs of trouble and rebels, were rewarded with the outline of a cabin. Melanie felt Bordon breathe a sigh of relief as she saw the shelter as well.

"Thank God," she murmured, glad at the sight of it.

Bordon nudged the horse off the path, riding it through the thin clump of trees. He looked about the area around the cabin as they rode slowly up to it for any signs of trouble. With eyes adjusted to the darkness, Melanie could see only a very small area cleared about the perimeter of the cabin. Bordon, noticing the thick woods to the rear of the house, hoped that no rebels hid within. He cocked his pistol as they neared the door of the cabin, ready to use it.

The major listened about him for any signs of the occupants. The man heard only the sound of the wind in the trees and the drumming of thunder. He turned backwards slightly toward Miss Prescott and whispered orders.

"Speak," the officer commanded. From her past experience of having to ride with the dragoons on raids, she knew what he wanted from her.

"Is anyone at home," she called loudly. "We're in need of shelter for the night."

This was a tactic Bordon favored when they had prisoners with them—especially women or children. He found that isolated cabin dwellers were more likely to open their door to a feminine or child's voice—it was less threatening.

After a moment with only the sounds of the storm, Major Bordon quietly dismounted his steed. He motioned up to Melanie to climb down. She did so, very near silently as Bordon reined his horse to a post beside the house.

The officer looked back at the girl. "Stay close to me," he directed in a low voice, "and don't make me have to use my pistol."

Knowing that the man was referring to her past escape attempts, she sighed and shook her head silently in compliance. Truth be told, Melanie was cold and damp, and had no desire to run away in such a ferocious storm.

They cautiously approached the cabin door, still looking about for any signs of life. With gun drawn, Bordon thumped his gloved hand against the wood. "Open up in the name of King George," he demanded firmly.

The couple waited another moment for a response. When none was received, Alex slowly pushed the door open. Peering into the cabin, he saw that no one was about.

"Stay just inside the door," he instructed Melanie.

In the darkness he could make out a bed in the corner, a rough wood cabinet in the corner, a chair, and a small stool near the fireplace. As he perused the log hut, he speculated that it was a bachelor's home due to the lack of feminine things such as a butter churn, cooking pots and the sparse furnishings. The occupant was probably away hunting.

Alexander looked back at Melanie and motioned her with a nod of his head to come further into the cabin. She obeyed and moved freely toward the fireplace. Bordon holstered his gun and walked toward the door.

"This will do for the night," Bordon commented in a tired voice. "You can have the bed; I'll sleep on the floor." She nodded wearily and heaved a sigh.

"I'll start a fire," said Miss Prescott as she reached into the wood candle box on the wall next to the fireplace. She was relieved to find a few candles within. Looking down at the floor, she noticed a couple of logs, with some kindling and tinder piled at the foot of the hearth.

Just as Bordon stepped out of the cabin, he heard Melanie's voice. "We'll need a little more firewood, please Major." She knew from her experience back at her farm that the small amount on the floor would be enough to start the fire, but not to sustain it.

"I'll bring it in after I deal with the horse," answered the officer from outside. With that, he led Galahad into the small lean-to against the side of the cabin. It was rickety with a few boards missing on the sides, but there was a roof over it and enough wood around it to shelter the animal for the night. Bordon secured the horse's reins to a post and moved in beside the creature. With hardly any room for both he and the beast, Alex was able to move just enough within the cramped area to pull his saddlebags and haversack off the horse.

Inside the cabin, Miss Prescott lit a couple of candles then started a fire fairly easily. With hands on her waist, she glanced at the homemade cabinet, spying a bottle of cider atop it. She stepped over to the tiny cupboard against the wall, knelt down and searched for food. Melanie smiled when she found a bit of dried Venison, some beans and three sweet potatoes on one of the shelves. A bit farther back on the shelf, she found a sack of walnuts and two large apples. With the small amount of food, she had enough to make a bit of stew from the venison, beans and potatoes, and could serve up peeled apples and some unshelled nuts for a sweet. At least they would have a hot meal, though meager, this night.

On the lower shelf, she found a wooden plate, fork, and tin mug, realizing that the occupant had most likely taken his only other 'place setting' along with him in his sack, wherever he had gone. She worried not, knowing that Major Bordon always carried a small mess kit in his belongings. Melanie knew, as well, that the major had a bit of salt pork, Hardtack, and a small flask of wine in his pack, so this would due for breakfast.

Bordon soon entered the shack again, carrying his saddlebags and haversack. He was pleased to see a fire started already as he sat the bags on the dirt floor.

"We have just enough for stew," the girl remarked. "May I have your knife to cut and peel?"

He gave her a sideways glance, silently warning her not to use the knife for other than food preparation. With that, Bordon handed her his haversack, instructing her to use whatever she needed from it. Melanie found his mess kit within and retrieved his jack knife from it.

Alex stepped back out of the cabin and to his horse. In the lean to, he found some oats in a small bin nailed to the wall, from which he spread them out on the ground before his horse to eat.

Just outside the cabin door, he stopped to place the wooden bucket that was near the entry out a little way from the cabin, hoping to catch enough rain in it to water Galahad. Then he picked up an armful of the firewood Miss Prescott had asked for a few minutes earlier.

Back inside, he laid the wood down next to the fireplace then bolted the door. He noticed Miss Prescott standing at the small cabinet, which came up nearly to her waist. Her back was to him, but he could hear her chopping and peeling the potatoes, using the top of the cabinet as a cutting board.

Dropping into the chair, over which Melanie had draped his uniform jacket, he closed his eyes for a moment. As he did, the Heavens opened with a crack of thunder and poured heavy rain down upon the cabin. He smiled, chuckling under his breath, glad they had made it to shelter before the storm became worse.

Clad in waistcoat, shirt and boots, he loosened the stock at his neck, hanging the cravat over the arm of the wooden chair. As one hand unbuttoned his collar, the other hand reached down into his pack on the floor. He found his diary and a pencil.

"While you cook I'm going to note the day's events in my field diary," he said in a weary voice. He would also have to write a short report for Colonel Tavington of the near skirmish just an hour earlier.

Melanie prepared and cooked the meal in silence, giving the officer the time and quiet he needed to make notes and write his report. As she stirred the stew, the warmth given off by the pot did not seem to relieve the chill she felt: the coldness of uncertainty felt at being holed up for the night alone with 'Brutal Bordon.'


	23. Chapter 23 A Meeting Of The Minds

Chapter 23 A Meeting Of The Minds

Two hours later, the pair sat beside the fire, Melanie on the stool and Bordon still in the chair, eating a late meal of stew, apples and nuts, and cider mixed with a bit of the major's wine. They ate in relative silence, only exchanging an occasional cordial word.

When they were finished, the two stepped outside the cabin, the rain still pouring. Both needed to relieve themselves. Melanie did so quickly on one side of the cabin, then scurried back inside, attempting to keep as dry as possible. After urinating outside the lean to, Bordon stepped over to the pail, which had collected some rain water, and took it to Galahad to drink.

Alex entered the shack again and barred the door for the night. He began to unbutton his waistcoat, taking it off for the evening, watching Miss Prescott as he did so. The man noticed that in the short time he'd been outside, she had already found his bedroll in his saddlebag and had spread it out on the dirt floor near the fire. Now, she turned back the bed linens, which had been sloppily made by the cabin's owner, readying it for sleep.

Melanie turned back and caught the Major watching her. He quickly averted his eyes downward as he folded and laid his vest neatly across the back of his chair. Trying hard not to blush, the young woman busied herself at the fire.

"More cider," she asked without turning back to face the officer.

"Yes. Please," replied Alex.

Reaching for the two cups on the floor, Melanie spoke again as she filled them with the remaining cider. "Will we get into trouble for not going back to the fort tonight?"

"No," Bordon answered confidently as he pulled his long queue over his shoulder. He unwrapped the plait of hair as he continued. "There were extenuating circumstances which I've apprised my superiors of in my report."

"Will they look for us tonight?" she asked as she mixed some of the wine into the warm cider.

"No. If the others made it back, then they will notify the Colonel that we were separated. I don't think we're that far from the fort. We'll leave here in the morning, and probably make it back before they can get a search party out."

Miss Prescott acknowledged his words with a nod as she turned to give the officer his drink. She stayed still for a moment, quietly holding the cup as she as she studied Bordon unbinding his braid. As he ran his fingers through his now loose hair, Melanie caught her breath as she noticed how the firelight brought out the blond in his long locks.

When his hands were free from his red mane of hair, Melanie handed him the cup of liquid refreshment. She watched as Bordon settled back into the stiff wooden chair, closing his eyes after taking a long pull on the cider and spirits. The girl heard him shifting in the chair, trying to make himself comfortable, as she sat down on the stool close to the fire. Looking back up at the man, he had now stretched his legs out in front of him, probably wanting to relieve the stiffness in them from the long riding of the day, she thought.

Bordon took his turn at watching Miss Prescott now. He noticed how weary she looked as she looked into the fire. The man stared softly at her as she folded her arms in front of her, resting them upon her knees. As he watched her lift the mug to her lips for a sip, a memory of their kiss from a few days earlier flashed across his mind. Drawing in a sharp breath, he shuddered and shook his head, as if trying to rid himself of the sensuous thought.

The young lady looked up at him just as he did, thinking he was trying to stave off sleep. He looked very comfortable, lounging within the chair. She felt a bit more relaxed, attributing that to the warm cider and wine mixture now working its way through her system.

The girl smiled nervously at him, then looked down at the floor, hoping that the fire did not show the flush of pink she felt in her cheeks. Melanie stared back into the flames, which both warmed and mesmerized her.

As she watched the flames dance, Miss Prescott delved into her mind, dwelling silently on the strange path of her relationship with Major Bordon. She remembered how stiff and duty driven he was when she first met him during her convalescence at the fort; very much the proper officer. Then the girl recalled how he assaulted her, taking advantage of her person and helping himself to her virginity. And of late, how the officer had apologized for his actions, pledging to leave her alone. He had held true to his word.

Melanie closed her eyes at the last thought: the memory of the sweet kiss the two of them shared only a few days ago. She marveled at how Bordon had remained a perfect gentleman, even now as they were alone. This was all so confusing for the young woman, and these memories and the silence now in the cabin were driving her crazy.

Brushing the thoughts aside with a heavy sigh, Miss Prescott then tipped the mug again and drank down the rest of the cider in one gulp. In a moment, she thought, she would excuse herself for bed.

After a few moments had passed, the couple sat quietly still, an unsettling silence hanging between them. During this time, Melanie kept trying to speak up to bid goodnight, but the words remained only in her mind, as if being held prisoner by the thoughts that still haunted her.

There were so many unanswered questions; so much confusion and emotion still. Melanie knew this would keep her awake. She decided to speak up, if only for herself, to put some things to rest between them.

Summoning up her courage with a breath, Miss Prescott broke the silence. "Major Bordon, why did you do it?"

Alex sat forward, elbows upon his knees looking intently at the girl. Tired as he was from the day, he wasn't immediately sure what she was referring to.

Watching his face in the firelight, Melanie saw a questioning look spread across it silently. She stared resolutely into his eyes as he cocked his head to the side.

"Why did you force yourself on me?" she asked, unrelenting.

Bordon drank down the last bit of the concoction in his cup, then set it aside. The man heaved a sigh, and slumped backward in his seat. _God, why did she have to bring this up, he thought. _

Alex stared into the fire for a moment, feeling shame, embarrassed as scenes of him brutalizing her flashed across his mind. Yet, though he was guilty and equally ashamed, he felt obligated to answer her query.

Drawing in a breath, Alexander Bordon summoned as much courage as he could find. It had been years since he had felt this vulnerable, and equally as long since he had bared his soul to a woman. Yet he felt the strange need to tell Melanie.

"I had to discourage your feelings for me," he stated in a quiet voice. "I wanted you to hate me."

"Hate you?" Melanie looked at the officer, her face and eyes glowing with confusion.

"Yes," answered Bordon. "It would make things easier and much simpler for us both if you did."

Shaking her head in bewilderment, the young woman let out a sigh. She turned slightly on her stool away from the fire and now facing the Major. "Simpler?..Easier…? I don't understand. What are you trying to say?"

"I didn't want you to love me," Bordon replied. "If you hated me, things would be easier. If I knew that you hated me, then it would be harder for me to have feelings for you."

Melanie was puzzled. "Why didn't you want to have feelings toward me?"

"Because I couldn't," he responded. "I simply wouldn't allow myself to fall for another woman." Alex looked into the fire again with dejection upon his face.

Putting her right elbow upon her knee, Miss Prescott rested her chin in her hand. She gazed at the officer, moved at how forlorn he looked. She likened him to a lost little boy.

"I am a slave to my past," he declared. Major Bordon looked up from the fire and over at Melanie. To him, she looked so gentle and sincere, as well as beautiful in the firelight. He felt oddly as if he could trust her.

"You see, there have been women I have loved," he announced, "but they didn't return my feelings. And two of them were deceitful. I was determined never to be hurt again by another woman."

Miss Prescott was silent, listening intently to Major Bordon. She was curious to find out about the past of this man that she had feelings for.

"Back in Surrey, England, where my family's estate is," began Bordon, "I was 15 when I realized I'd fallen in love with my childhood playmate, Christine. Our families were neighbors, and we grew up together. I wanted to properly court her and finally got up the courage to ask her when we were 17. She rejected me instantly, telling me that I was like a brother to her and that she had no romantic inclinations toward me. I was so young and absolutely crushed."

"After that, Father purchased a commission for me in the Dragoons and I was posted in London. There, I met Mary at a ball. We fell in love and courted. Then, we became engaged and both our families were pleased. But, she broke off the betrothal when a man with status and more money came along. My heart was broken, again."

With this, Alex paused a moment to gather his thoughts. He looked at Miss Prescott, who was still sitting quietly, listening without words, and seemed to be passing no judgment. He continued.

"I think I had sworn off of love after Mary, and was alone for awhile. I went home to Surrey a lot. And when home, I'd often go with my friends into the village to meet them at the pub. The shopkeeper's daughter, Jane, was the village doxy. That was sort of a ….public secret. All the men knew where to go to do a bit of wenching. Needless to say, I cannot proclaim to be a saint, because I wasn't. I had been with her upon occasion, but so had many others."

Alex Bordon stopped for a moment, realizing that what he was just talking about wasn't proper conversation around a lady. He gave an apologetic look to Miss Prescott.

"I'm sorry," he bade. "This isn't…. suitable conversation."

The talk of whoring had not fazed Melanie. Indeed, she was intrigued at hearing Major Bordon's story, content that he had opened up to her.

She smiled a soft, reassuring smile at him. "It's alright," she persuaded. "Go on."

Melanie watched the man keenly. He bristled, as if the next part of his past was hard for him to speak of. Still, he went on.

"Well,….suffice it to say…Jane got her bellyful. And she named me as the father. I am sure it was because she probably had no idea _who _the father was, and took the opportunity to nab the best for herself, knowing my family's reputation and wealth. Her father came out to the country one day to speak to my father, accusing me of not fulfilling my responsibility to his daughter. Father tried to make me marry her, but I adamantly refused. He threatened to disinherit me, but I told him that I was not about to marry the village tart, who had been with many men around the area, and be a father to a bastard that was not mine. Father finally relented and did not hold me obligated to the girl, but it caused a scandal about us for which he has never forgiven me. Rumors rounded society and the countryside and disgraced the Bordon name nonetheless, all because Jane got herself into trouble. Defying my father drove a wedge between us. I'll never forget my father yelling at me, shouting 'If you would have kept your breeches up and ridden your horse instead of the village trollop, then you wouldn't be in this predicament!'"

This elicited an unexpected chuckle from Melanie. She pulled back quickly, controlling herself when Bordon glared at her. She apologized, "I'm sorry. I wasn't laughing at you or your grave situation, it is just that your Father's words were so….bold."

Bordon dropped his head then looked back up at Miss Prescott. With a lopsided smile, he conceded. "You don't have to be sorry. My father is very outspoken and has never minced words. His forthright opinions didn't help matters any with the next woman in my life. That was Paulette. And I was determined to take things slow with her and not rush in head over spurs. I was resolute that _I _would be in control of my feelings and the direction that things went. I was steadfast that this woman would not get the best of me; that I would either have unconditional love and devotion from her, or that she and I would have nothing."

The officer stopped abruptly, as if not wanting to recount the rest of his past. He drew in a heavy sigh, held it an instant, then let it out.

"Paulette was from a decent family with some fortune and standing, which was good. But she was questionable." Bordon paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts. The man continued. "She was manipulative. She knew exactly what she wanted. And, then the deception started…." His voice trailed off.

To Melanie he looked lost, as if he wasn't sure what to say. But the young woman had already heard enough. And now she understood why the man had pushed her away.

"It's alright, Major," she assuaged. "You don't have to go on. I see now, and I understand things. And I'm so sorry that your past wasn't happy. I wish that you find happiness in the future."

"Thank you," he uttered simply, glad that he didn't have to continue his story.

There was a silence between the two. Melanie folded and clasped her hands together and stared into the fire. The major removed his boots and stockings, then settled back again into the chair.

The two were quiet as the fire popped and crackled, and the heavy rain continued to beat a cadence on the roof. Miss Prescott broke the silence. "How do you feel about me?"

Bordon was completely speechless and in disbelief at what she had just asked him. He tried to appear stone-like, conveying no emotion. He feared her knowing that her query had just shaken him to the core. The man wasn't sure what to do next. He was afraid to answer her, again not wanting to give in to his feelings.

Acting as if he hadn't heard her, he suddenly rose from his chair. "I need to go check the horse."

Just as quickly as he turned to walk out, Melanie rose from the stool and spoke out.

"Major," she called emphatically after him, "do you have feelings for me?"

Again, the officer avoided the question, still trying to act as if he hadn't heard the lady. As he grabbed the door handle with his strong hand, he suddenly found Melanie's small hand resting atop his. Her speed to catch him before he left jarred him completely, and he stopped dead in his tracks.

"Alex," she began in a trembling voice, "do you love me?"


	24. Chapter 24 Giving Up Giving In

Chapter 24 Giving up Giving In

Bordon closed his eyes and heaved a sullen sigh. Both stood still in the heavy, tension filled silence, not sure what was going to happen.

After another moment of tight anxiety, Major Bordon closed the door. Melanie pulled her hand away as he did, still standing quietly behind him. She watched as the man rested his forehead against the door, almost as in a gesture of defeat.

"Yes….Melanie..," he relented in a ragged voice, "I am in love with you."

The young woman drew in a breath of excitement at having heard him call her by her name. Her heart within wanted to leap for joy, yet was beating a path slowly up into her throat. Miss Prescott stood like a statue in her spot, not sure what to do or say.

Alexander Bordon stayed against the door, resigned to his fate. He could deny his feelings for her no more and had given in, once again, to a woman.

After another moment, the Major straightened upright, and turned around. His eyes met Melanie's, which were soft and inviting.

He took both of her hands in his, and raised them slowly upwards. An almost inaudible gasp escaped Melanie's mouth as the Major lightly kissed both her hands. Alex brought both her hands back down, where he clasped them as they hung as her sides.

With a small breath, Alexander leaned forward and kissed Melanie's lips lightly, nearly a chaste kiss. The girl closed her eyes as he did, then opened them to find Bordon standing a bit closer. She looked up at him longingly, begging him with her eyes to do it again.

Bordon kissed the girl again softly and slowly, his lips lingering on hers. When he felt no resistance, he pressed his body to hers and his mouth against her lips. Miss Prescott willingly parted her lips during the kiss, surrendering to the officer.

Melanie's small hands slipped out of Bordon's and moved softly up over his chest to his neck, which she clasped. With that, Alex put his arms around her waist, with one hand soon slipping downwards to caress her bottom through layers of skirts.

After a moment, the man's hands moved up to the buttons of Miss Prescott's dress. He deftly unbuttoned her bodice as he kissed her deeply. Melanie let his tongue move languidly within her mouth, marveling at the sensual feel of it.

His mouth left hers for a moment to outline her jawbone with light kisses. As his lips moved to her ear, she shivered with the feathery sensation upon the soft lobes of it. Alex pushed Melanie's dress off her shoulders and down her arms. It fell into a puddle around her feet, which she stepped backward out of. Bordon stepped forward and over the lifeless dress left on the cabin floor.

Close to the young woman once again, he put his hands on her waist and gently turned her away from him. He began to kiss the back of her neck and ears as his hands began to unlace the back of her corset. Melanie let him do as he wished with her stay, as she drank in the sensations of his mouth nibbling her ears and neck. She felt flushed with arousal, and her legs felt weak, as if she would swoon any instant.

In another moment, Major Bordon had unbound Melanie from her stay, after which he tossed it onto the dirt floor. The girl turned back to face him, clad now only in her shift and a few petticoats. She reached out and pulled her lover back to her, leaning willingly back into a kiss.

Miss Prescott rose onto her tip toes and began to trail kisses along Bordon's jaw, his stubble tickling her cheek as she did. The girl softly kissed his neck, then teased his earlobe with a nibble. As she did, her hands began to pull on the soft material of his shirt, pulling it out of his breeches. Bordon groaned as Melanie continued to kiss his neck and ears.

"Ahhhh," he moaned as Melanie's hands found their way up under his shirt. Her hands slid lightly over his stomach and chest, stopping to rest there. Alex groaned again as the young woman's fingers caressed and pinched his nipples.

Soon Melanie's lips were back upon his as she felt him bunching his shirt up. Their mouths parted only for an instant as she pushed his shirt up and over his head. He dropped the garment as he pulled the girl to him, wanting to feel the warmth of her semi clad body against his bare chest.

As they kissed and teased another moment, his hands untied the ribbon at the front of her shift, then pushed the garment down and over her shoulders. It hung limply at her waist upon the petticoats, making her feel shy as she stood naked from the waist up.

Bordon's mouth left hers as he stepped back to gaze at the young woman's body in the fire and candlelit cabin. Suddenly, Melanie remembered her scars of 10 months ago, and became self conscious. The girl covered her bosom with one arm and her belly with the other.

Alex felt certain he knew why she had covered herself. His mind drifted back to an encounter he had shortly after healing from one of his first major wounds, and how the whore he was with that night would perceive him. He reached out and took one of Melanie's hands, gently guiding it to his torso, where he put her fingers upon a scar below his shoulder above the top of his right breast.

Melanie eased a bit as her fingers traced the scar. As she looked over his bare torso in the dim light, she soon saw a few more old wounds of different sizes and lengths crisscrossing his body. She suddenly remembered that she wasn't the only person disfigured by this war. The girl's other hand went out to trace another wound on his bicep.

"Death passed us both by," he remarked, trying to soothe her. "Yet it made sure to mark us." Melanie smiled softly, saying nothing, but feeling at ease now with Bordon.

He hooked his arm around her waist slowly and pulled her body back to him. Alex sighed as he felt Miss Prescott's bare breasts against his nude torso. After his hands traced her bare back, they slipped around to the front and up her body.

As Bordon kneaded her breasts and coaxed her nipples into peaks with his fingers, Melanie cooed as his mouth covered hers in a kiss. Her arms were hooked securely around his neck, with Bordon's continuing ministrations making her feel as if she would faint.

In a moment the couple had moved onto the bed, Bordon lying on top of Melanie, both of them kissing and trying to remove the last bits of their clothing. After Melanie pulled off her petticoats and shift, she moved under the cover as she watched Alex shed his breeches. He then joined his lover under the blankets, moving to lie atop her naked body again.

The couple kissed deeply for a moment as they became warm and comfortable beneath the bedding. Melanie's arms encircled Bordon's body. And after a moment of quiet but frantic kisses, her hands began to trace his back. She felt him tremble slightly when she ran her fingertips up his spine.

Alex shifted slightly between her legs, which startled the young woman out of her momentary reverie. She remembered him doing this before he had taken her, forcefully, in the past, and she became scared.

The officer felt her body stiffen beneath his and heard her gasp. He moved his lips to her left ear and nibbled lightly on the shell of it. "Shhhhhh," he murmured into it as his moist lips continued to tease her.

In an instant, he felt her arms leave his body and soon found them on his large chest. She was trying to push him away, but he held himself tightly to her. Then their eyes locked.

Miss Prescott had a worried, almost desperate look in her eyes. He could tell she was apprehensive. The dragoon stayed silent as it looked as though she wanted to say something.

"Please…."she stammered almost inaudibly, "please….don't hurt me…like you did before."

Pinned beneath him still, she knew she was at his mercy. Though worried that he may become brutal as he had before, she suddenly felt silly at what she had just said. He was atop her and could take her anyway that he pleased. Melanie closed her eyes and turned her head to the side, unable to hold his gaze.

Bordon cringed inside, still ashamed at how he had treated her the three times he'd been with her. But this was not enough to spoil his lust. He gently took her chin between his index finger and thumb, bringing her face back to meet his. She opened her eyes and stared into his again. Alex saw the mixture of uncertainty, lust, and fear clouding her sky blue eyes.

"I'll give you only pleasure from now on," he assured her in a sensual whisper. With this, his lips trailed to her neck, marking the soft skin there with gentle and wet kisses. "I promise," he murmured into her blond hair.

Miss Prescott's body went limp beneath him and her head sank back into the pillow. She cooed as his lips trailed from the side of her neck, across her throat, and to the top of her shoulders. Her body would shudder ever so often as she felt his hands move up and down her ribs and hips. Melanie's own hands moved to encircle his body again, dancing lightly down his bare torso and coming to rest softly atop his buttocks.

As Melanie began to caress his rear, she marveled at how hard and tight it felt. She smiled inwardly as he groaned when he felt her hands on his rump. As he continued to kiss down the top of her chest, she kneaded his butt a little harder. As another guttural moan escaped his lips against her skin, she grinned a little, pleased at finding out that he was enjoying the sensations.

A third time, she cupped his buttocks, and he groaned again at this. But this time, Melanie did not smile. Instead, she felt a strange sensation within herself that felt pleasant. She was learning quickly how to please this man, and she loved it. It made her feel as if she had a womanly power over him, and that overwhelmed her.

Boldly, her right hand moved slowly from his rear and slipped between their bodies, finding his hardened member. As her fingers touched it, he shook slightly. Melanie had never touched a man's penis before, and was fascinated at how it felt. Her hand moved between their bodies and explored the hardness. This was enough to stop Alex in his tracks, his lips pulling away from her skin.

The girl was so caught up in discovering his phallus that she did not notice that he'd stopped kissing her. Wanting to feel more of it, she wrapped her hand about it. Innocently and slowly, she moved her fist up and down the length of it.

"Oh…my God," groaned Bordon, clearly in ecstasy.

Melanie felt a twinge of heat and want between her legs as she did this. And after stroking Bordon slowly twice more, she felt this delicious sensation again. She assumed that she herself was becoming aroused by what she was doing to this man, and she relished the feeling.

After a moment, Bordon's face met hers to kiss her mouth deeply again. As their tongues entwined and explored each other's mouths, Melanie's eager hand moved a bit lower and softly cupped Alexander's scrotum. The officer groaned into her mouth as she did. This young woman was driving him insane with her curiosity.

After he kissed her, he reached between their bodies and found her wandering hand. He gently pulled it away from his cock, afraid that he was becoming too aroused, and he wasn't ready to spend his seed just yet. Alex guided her hand back up and around him. She complied and let it rest softly on his waist.

The major then took her other hand and brought it to his lips, where he kissed the tip of each finger lightly, teasing her. She smiled at this and suppressed a giggle, for it tickled at first. But Melanie soon found a moan escaping her own lips as the officer drew her forefinger into his wet mouth, sucking on it. The girl's breathing increased as he moved her finger in and out, his tongue teasing it as he did. And soon, she felt that lovely, unexplainable twinge between her legs again.

In an instant, Major Bordon's mouth had left her index finger and was now on her left breast. "Mmmmmmm", she sighed as his lips gently covered her nipple. With her finger still near his mouth, Melanie touched his cheek and lips with her fingers, wanting to feel how his mouth worked as he suckled the pink tip of her breast.

Wanting to heighten her arousal even more, as Bordon's tongue would snake out from between his lips to circle the nipple, he teasingly touched the tip of her finger upon every revolution. Bordon was pleased as she cooed again. His mouth trailed kisses across the valley of her chest and found the point of her right breast.

Melanie's arms went around Bordon's shoulders and held onto him tightly, reveling in the delightful tugging sensations on her right nipple. As Alexander's lips and tongue worked the jewel, his other hand moved from her hips up to her left breast, which he kneaded firmly.

In another instant, his mouth latched tightly onto her right nipple, which sent another flush of heat down into Melanie's crotch. He began to suck hard on the pink tip, which sent another, yet different, sensation of warm arousal throughout her body.

"Oh….." she moaned aloud in pleasure, not wanting the pulling sensation on her breast to end. She instinctively arched her back a little, as if wanting to push her breast further into his mouth.

Alex could tell that her excitement was starting to heighten, but was still in control yet. In a heartbeat his mouth left her breast, which made her feel suddenly abandoned.

Melanie looked frantically down at her lover, wondering why he had stopped his amazing ministrations. She saw and felt his lips kissing softly down her stomach, which made her middle twitch. As his mouth moved ever lower across her belly, she felt as though her tummy was full of fluttering butterflies. Unsure of what he was going to do, but enjoying the feeling, she did not stop him.

Soon, the girl felt Bordon's breath move over her triangle of blond pubic hair, and to the top of her left thigh. She sighed, closing her eyes as her head dropped back onto the pillow. Her body quivered as her lover's lips kissed and nibbled the insides of both her thighs. As these new sensations drove her into a frenzy, she grasped the bed linens with her hands, clinging tightly to the bed.

As Alex continued to tease her, Melanie felt an instinctive urge to have this man anyway she could. She longed to feel him inside of her and had to have him soon.

Suddenly, the young woman felt Bordon's mouth on her womanhood, his lips and tongue gently exploring its folds. An urgent jolt of energy surged through her body when he did.

"Ahhh…." she mewled. She was not at all ashamed to feel his mouth on her most intimate place. Indeed, Miss Prescott never knew that a pleasure such as this existed. The girl lay still and let his tongue ravish her femininity, taking delight in the feelings.

Bordon sucked and licked the velvet folds delicately, taking his time teasing her. And in a moment, he felt her hips buck upward as his tongue hit her womanly pearl. Her body jerked again as he dragged his tongue slowly across it. Alexander paused there for a moment, his lips gently sucking her clitoris until it hardened.

Again, Alex pressed his tongue to the little erection and stroked it lightly. His lover moaned as he did. Slowly, he licked around it, then began to manipulate it, moving in tiny circles.

Arching her back, a groan escaped from her mouth at the pleasurable sensations. Miss Prescott felt warmth in her pelvis and thighs, and delighted in the inexplicable tingle she felt in her womanhood every time his tongue stroked it.

Her hands clenched into fists, still gripping the bedding as his tongue continued its sensual assault on the ruby between her thighs. Not wanting it to end, Melanie turned loose of the bed linens then moved her hands downward and snaked her fingers into Major Bordon's long, strawberry blond hair. She held his head there as he continued to massage her sensuously.

As his tongue circled the pearl in a quicker rhythm, he could sense her passion rising to its height. The girl's fingers held tightly in his hair and her back arched more.

"Oh……oh God…..Ahhh…Oh.." Melanie cried out as she came, twisting her fingers into the locks of his hair. The girl was amazed at the shockwaves that traversed her body, feeling her sexual tension relieved in an instant.

With her body still trembling and her breath ragged, she was unaware that Alexander was moving quickly back up her body, equal with her again. Still breathing hard, but starting to calm, she felt his breath on her ear as he murmured, "That was pleasure, my darling."

Bordon reached between his legs to guide himself to her entrance. As his lover lay beneath him, still quaking from her orgasm, he pushed hard into her with a jovial thrust, causing her to cry out again.

As he thrust quickly in and out of her, Melanie's arms went around him, holding his body close to hers. She felt a need to feel him deeper within herself. Her hands moved down again to his ass, one hand on each cheek of it. Pressing down hard on his butt, she silently urged him to move more deeply into her.

Even though she could feel that he was penetrating her a little deeper, lust overtook her and she wanted to feel more. She shifted her own hips beneath him, then pulled her legs up to plant her feet on the bed. The girl tried frantically to meet his movements with her own thrusts, but she couldn't seem to satisfy her own greedy need.

As they continued to move with one another in rhythm, Melanie's hands moved back up his body to his head. She held his face in her hands and kissed him deeply and urgently. Bordon thrust faster as she did, heightening, yet fighting his own need for release at the same time.

Melanie whispered breathily against the officer's ear. "Please…..oh God…..please," she pleaded. "Deeper……deeper…"

With that, Bordon's hand snaked up her left thigh then hooked beneath her knee. The officer lifted her leg up and over his hip. He did the same with her other leg so that she could take him more deeply.

"Ahhh….Oh….please..", the young woman moaned as he continued to move more deeply within her.

"Better?" he asked in a lustful voice.

"Yes," answered Melanie nearly inaudibly, visibly lost to her passion.

The major began to groan as he tried hard to suppress his orgasm, wanting Melanie to come again. His mouth claimed hers again in a hard kiss.

He pulled away from her and looked at her face, flushed with excitement and eyes closed. The girl was clearly in ecstasy.

"Look at me, Melanie," he requested in a raspy voice. "Look into my eyes."

The young woman complied and saw Bordon's eyes dark with lust. The pair looked intently at one another as Alexander continued to push and swerve deeply into her.

He soon quickened his pace, and Melanie felt her body losing control again. And in an instant, he had claimed her body with his power again. She gripped his shoulders tightly, never looking away from his deep blue eyes.

"Oh….Alex…..Oh…", she cried out, uninhibited. "Oh…..mmmmm….ahh!"

Bordon came equally as fast. His seed spurted hot and forcefully into her. "God….Oh….Melanie…..Melanie…..oh…" he groaned aloud, never taking his eyes off her.

His body collapsed onto hers as they both came down from their orgasms. With a satisfied grunt, he slipped his now flaccid member out of Melanie and rolled off of her and onto his back. There, Alexander pulled Melanie Prescott into his arms and against his body. The officer pulled the blanket up and covered them both. The couple fell asleep almost right away, exhausted from the long days' events, and from their own bedsport.


	25. Chapter 25 Pillow Talk

Chapter 25 Pillow Talk

Hours later, Melanie awoke with her head pillowed on Alexander's shoulder. One of his hands caressed her back gently, as the other stroked her hair.

"Is it morning already," she asked sleepily, as she looked lovingly up at him.

Alex kissed her forehead affectionately. "I'm afraid so," he replied softly with his lips against her skin. His fingers worked into her blond tresses, weaving themselves in and out, and toying with her curls. His other hand worked smoothly down her back and caressed her bare bottom beneath the covers.

"It's stopped raining," Bordon pointed out. He kissed her cheek lightly. "We can leave right after breakfast."

"Oh….," Melanie pouted. "I want to stay here with you forever." She smiled up at him, then began to kiss his neck.

Before she could tease him much longer, he quickly rolled her over onto her back, and the two kissed deeply and passionately for a moment. Her arms encircled his body, holding him close as they did.

"I would like to as well," replied Alex, pulling away from her kiss. "But duty calls."

He kissed her mouth again with a playful peck, as he moved out of her embrace to sit on the edge of the bed. The man immediately pulled his breeches on and stood up as Melanie sat up in the bed. She pulled the covers up, modestly covering herself in the new daylight of the cabin.

Turning back to Melanie, the officer leaned down, his hands on either side of her, and gave her another slow, sensual kiss. As his mouth left hers, he said, "I'll get the horse ready if you will deal with our breakfast."

She grinned up at him and gave him a quick peck of a kiss back on his lips. Bordon began to pick up bits and pieces of his uniform as Melanie rolled out of bed, reaching for her chemise and pulling it on.

She dressed quickly as Bordon was outside gearing the horse up for the ride back to the fort. Melanie also put out a cold breakfast of salt pork—a few pieces, and Hard tack. The meager breakfast would suffice for now; they'd return to the fort soon and could get a hot meal there.

The couple ate quickly on Bordon's instructions as he wanted to get on the road for Fort Carolina soon. As the officer brought the horse around to the front of the cabin, he entered it again to collect Miss Prescott.

"Ready to leave?"

"Yes," Melanie answered with a loving smile.

"Alright then," said Bordon. "Give me your hands."

Melanie thrust her hands out in front of her with a smile. She wondered what playful thing he would do next. Maybe kiss her fingers again, she hoped.

With that, Alexander pulled a rope out from behind his back and began to lash her wrists together. Melanie looked at him in shock. What was he doing?

"I have to bind your wrists," he said, without emotion and sounding official. He continued with the task.

Too stunned to say anything, Miss Prescott just looked at him in shock. He caught a glimpse of her face, seeing the momentary panic in it as he twisted the rope gently about her wrists.

"It's regulation," he stated, as he laced the binding around her hands. His voice, sounded like that of a proper officer again.

Melanie's heart sank as Bordon neared the end of his task. She closed her eyes and looked away. The girl wondered how she could have been such a fool. He had only used her again.

Tying off the last knot Bordon looked up at Miss Prescott, who was looking away from him at the wall. "Let's go," he exclaimed not suspecting that anything was wrong.

As he walked out of the cabin, he turned to find no one behind him. Confused, he peered back through the door and saw Melanie standing there, still staring blankly at the wall.

The officer walked back in to get her, thinking she hadn't heard him. He smiled at her, then cocked his head to the side when she acted as if she didn't know he stood before her.

"What's wrong," he queried innocently.

She turned back to look at him, her eyes brimmed with tears. Wondering what she was upset about after having acted happy this morning earlier when they awoke, he reached out to touch her cheek. Melanie jerked her head back and away from it, looking down at the floor.

Assertively, Bordon reached out yet again and firmly gripped her chin with his hand. He turned her head back to his in order to see her face.

A tear ran down Melanie's cheek as her face contorted in sorrow. Concerned, Alex reached up and wiped her tear away with his fingers. "What is it?"

"I'm a prisoner again to you," she said, trying to choke back more tears and sorrow.

Bordon sighed heavily and closed his eyes. He wanted to speak to comfort her, but couldn't get the words out in time before she cut him off.

In a defeated voice, she looked down at the cabin floor, dejected and ashamed. The tears now flowed freely from her eyes. "I stupidly fell for your words and charm last night. You used me." She paused, sniffled, then continued on. "You treat me no better than your camp followers. I mean nothing to you."

"That's not true," he claimed in a subdued voice. He wanted to allay her fears. "What I said was honest. I _do _love you." With that, he leaned forward and kissed the tears away on her cheeks. Then he pressed a light, loving kiss to her lips, but she did not respond back. She stood there, coldly.

"Melanie, I don't have a choice," he explained in a confined voice. Reaching out to her cheeks, he held her face softly and wiped new tears away from the corners of her eyes with his thumbs.

"Listen to me," he pleaded. "I am an officer and it's against decorum. It is frowned upon for us to be intimate with prisoners."

"But when no one else is around, you can do as you please," she countered in a crushed voice, "because it's my word against yours—an officer."

"Melanie—"

"Don't!," she exclaimed, dodging around him as he tried to take her into his arms. She looked at him with contempt as she stepped away from him. She left him standing there, looking the part of the consummate officer in his menacing uniform and hair pulled back tightly into a queue.

Melanie walked toward the cabin door and to his horse. Once there, she turned and looked haughtily back at him. She desperately tried to hold on to what little dignity she had left—dignity that she felt that she gave up too easily to the man last night.

"So, do your duty now, Major Bordon, and take your prisoner back to the fort," she smirked as she thrust her chin up. She turned away again, facing straight head.

Alexander heaved a heavy sigh and looked up at the ceiling of the cabin. He took a deep breath, pulled his shoulders up and back, again assuming his role as an officer. No use reasoning with her now—it was clear to him that she wouldn't listen.

Major Bordon closed the cabin door behind him. He lifted Miss Prescott up onto his horse, then he mounted behind her. The horse trotted away, leaving the little cabin behind.

It was a quiet and uneventful ride back to the fort. A couple of times during the ride, Bordon leaned forward and affectionately tried to kiss Melanie's cheek in an effort to comfort her. Both times, she jerked forward away from him. Rolling his eyes, he hooked his arm hard around her waist, squeezing her tightly back to him, as he had before on previous rides when he had to keep her from trying to jump from his horse.

Melanie Prescott noticed nothing of the scenery on the ride back to the fort. Her eyes were full of tears, blurring her vision, and her cheeks wet with them as she cried silently to herself, her heart broken.

*************

Fort Carolina came into site in just over an hour. The pair rode through the gates with shouts from the sentries that the lost major had found his way home. Miss Prescott was relieved to be back and anxious to depart Major Bordon's company.

As the officer's steed neared the veranda, Bordon spied General O'Hara coming out to meet them. The general had heard the sentries' shouts from inside and wanted to greet the foundlings. Rushing down the steps, he met the major's horse as it came to a stop just short of the porch.

The General caught Bordon's horse himself, then handed the reins off to a private nearby. "Ah, Major Bordon," he greeted, "we're glad you're back and thankful for your safety."

"Thank you, sir," Bordon answered graciously. O'Hara helped Miss Prescott down from the saddle as Alexander watched. He then dismounted, easing himself onto the ground. He noted that Charlie O'Hara had taken hold of Melanie's elbow and was guiding her toward the steps. The senior officer turned toward Bordon as the trio walked together.

"The Lord General and myself wish to see you shortly for debriefing," he informed.

"Of course, Sir," Major Bordon complied. "Please allow me to escort Miss Prescott to her quarters and I'll join you momentarily."

O'Hara nodded cordially as he handed the young lady back over to her charge. With that, Alex spirited away a very sullen Melanie. The girl said nothing but continued to seethe as the officer ushered her up the stairs and down the hallway.

Once at the door, Miss Prescott stayed mute as Major Bordon opened it. As quick as the door opened, Melanie rushed through it, wanting to put as much distance as possible between her and the officer. Quickly, Alexander grabbed her back to him before she could get too far, slammed the door, then pinned her back firmly against it once inside her room.

Melanie raised her bound hands and tried to hit the man. Alex grabbed her arms, immediately overpowering her, though she still struggled to fight him.

In a moment, the young woman burst into tears of embarrassment. She exclaimed in frustration, "You lied to me!"

The man tried to quiet the young woman down. "Shhhh.."

Still, Melanie fought him. "You toyed with me," she sobbed. "You _don't _love me!"

"_Yes, I do," _insisted Bordon.

"You used me!"

With this, Alexander pulled his mistress' bound arms upward and slid them over his head so that they encircled his neck. The helpless girl could do nothing about this.

"Shhh…Melanie, calm down," he soothed.

The young lady gave up her fight and wept into his chest. With his gloved hand, the major lifted her chin to look at him. "Darling, I do love you," he persisted, "But if we want to be together, we'll have to be discreet. We must act as if nothing is out of sorts. Do you understand?"

Miss Prescott said nothing as she looked into Bordon's blue eyes. She wanted to trust him, but was confused.

"Officers cannot carry on with prisoners," he informed. "It is not permitted."

After another moment, a frustrated Melanie relented with a sigh. Still mute, her eyes searched those of her lover's for reassurance.

As he returned her gaze, he asked poignantly, "Do you want us to see each other, or do you want this to end now?" The tone of his voice and the look in his azure eyes made her nearly swoon.

"Oh, Alex," she began, "I _want _to be with you."

He smiled silently down at her then lowered his head to meet hers. His mouth took hers in a slow, deep kiss.

After a moment, the girl was unaware that Bordon's lips had left hers. She clung blindly to the wall for support, panting all the while.

The officer smiled softly at the shaky young woman as he brought her arms from around his neck. As she stood there lost in her reverie, he loosened the bonds on her wrists.

Melanie slowly opened her eyes to find herself freed and the major still standing before her. She flushed suddenly, embarrassed as she realized that the officer had watched her in her dreamy state. Blushing, she looked away from him.

In an instant, the young woman felt Major Bordon's lips brush the shell of her right ear in a light kiss. As she shuddered, he whispered lovingly, "I'll come to your bed tonight." He kissed her cheek then stood straight and tall again.

Gently he removed a dazed Miss Prescott from the door, opened it, then disappeared quickly through it. The girl stood breathless as she pondered the twists and turns of the last twenty four hours of her life.

* * * * *

In the darkness of Melanie Prescott's chambers, the only noise was the muffled cries of two lovers at Midnight.

"Oh….Alex…Oh…Oh I'm coming," Melanie gasped softly, burying her cries in Bordon's strong shoulder. The girl was aware of the discretion needed, and that she could not carelessly scream her pleasure aloud as she had the night before in that secluded cabin.

Alexander's orgasm followed an instant later. As he drained himself into the young lady, he uttered a low groan. It was obvious by Bordon's disciplined actions that this wasn't the first time that he'd had to exercise discretion.

After a moment, the officer withdrew himself from her and rested between her legs. The man pillowed his head on her bare, soft breasts, relaxing as Melanie raked her fingers through his long hair.

"Alex, what part of Surrey are you from?"

Major Bordon didn't answer right away. He reveled in the feeling of his lover's fingers working through his locks, as he lazily moved his head to her right breast. He teased the nipple with his lips as he answered.

"Wokking," he replied as he ran his tongue around the jewel. "Southwest of London."

Melanie released a sigh and closed her eyes as Alexander moved then to her left breast, to tease it in turn. Before the girl regained composure to ask another question, Bordon moved up equal to her and covered her mouth in a long kiss.

A moment later, the officer rolled over on to his back, quickly deciding not to answer any more questions from her. He feared he had told her too much the night before in the cabin and was afraid to give up anymore of himself.

He decided to distract her subtly, deflecting her questions with a query of his own. He spoke as he pulled Melanie to him. "Have you ever been to England?"

Miss Prescott cuddled up to his body, laying her head upon his chest. She replied, "Yes. Three years ago in Early 1776."

Alex kissed the top of her head. "With your family?"

"No," she answered. "Just Father." She shifted a bit then continued. "I accompanied him to London to meet with the King and Parliament for the purpose of mediation. Mother, my sister and brothers stayed behind to start the planting in the spring."

"It was an interesting trip. I had occasion to go with father to some of his meetings. We didn't know many people in London, so there wasn't much to do during the day."

Melanie looked up at the major. "Were you in London at that time?"

"No," he answered flatly. "I've been here in the colonies since '75."

The girl opened her mouth to ask another question, but was quickly ushered away from it by the astute officer. "So, when you weren't attending meetings with your father, what did you do?"

"Read a lot," she replied. "Went to parties and dinners. Met many people."

She paused for a moment, recalling more of her trip then went on. "We were in London for two months. I dreaded the voyage home as I had spent most of the trip over below deck seasick. Father was worried. I had only just gained back the weight I'd lost on the trip over when it was time to return home. Suffice it to say, I am not a good sailor."

Melanie continued with her story. "We arrived back in Charles Towne is June, and it was bustling with activity. People were arguing and fighting amongst themselves. Soldiers from both sides were all over the city."

The girl went on. "We stayed at Mr. Pinckney's home for a week. We'd made it back just in time for father to meet with the South Carolina delegates."

"Did you attend that meeting with your father, as well?" asked Bordon.

"Yes. The room was full of people from the area. Father laid the concessions of the King before the delegates. But, he was immediately cut down by Mr. Howard and Colonel Burwell. The only one that was even remotely near wanting peace was that Martin man from Wakefield. He did not want war _or _peace; he seemed to just want the world to leave him and his family alone, as if they lived on some isolated island."

Melanie chuckled to herself, shaking her head. "I got the impression that if he didn't…..participate…..then the war wouldn't exist and would not affect him, as if the man was in some sort of denial." She sighed, "Fanciful thoughts."

Major Bordon continued to listen attentively. As he did, his intelligence officer's mind automatically gleaned information that may be of use to the British.

Unaware of what her lover was doing, Miss Prescott went on speaking about the events in Charles Towne.

"Colonel Burwell seemed to sway the crowd to fight that day. He gave an eloquent speech though he tried to appear modest the whole time. Jim Wilkins spoke up against him, and challenged some of the others, as well. I had no doubt of his Loyalist convictions that day. Of course, Britain and the colonies have been very good for his family's winery."

Stopping for a moment, Melanie remembered more of that day. Then, she went on. "Outside, after the meeting, I consoled father as he lamented the group's decision to fight. As we talked and watched all the commotion about, two men joined us."

"They were?"

"Oh, I knew the man in uniform right away to be Colonel Harry Burwell, as he was just introduced and made his speech in the meeting. The other man was quiet and somber, but he knew my father. Papa introduced us. That was Benjamin Martin, the man who seemed to think he could wish the war away."

Alex Bordon remembered that name from his studies of the area. He recalled hearing information that Burwell and Martin had served together in the war against the French years ago. He recalled learning of Martin leading the raid on Fort Wilderness—and that they had been merciless to the French there. The officer continued to listen to his lover.

"I didn't like the way that Colonel Burwell looked at me." She bristled.

"How was that," asked Bordon.

"The way a wolf eyes a sheep," she replied dryly.

Alexander smiled crookedly, amused at her description.

Melanie went on. "There was a ball that evening at Mr. Drayton's house. Needless to say, it was filled with tension since delegates from opposing sides were in attendance. An effigy of the King was burned just two homes away. I spent most of my time that night with Jim Wilkins and his sister, Elizabeth. I think I may have angered Colonel Burwell that evening."

"How was that," Bordon queried.

"I refused to dance with him. But in my defense, I had promised the next dance to Jim. I think Elizabeth may have danced with him, much to Jim's dismay."

Melanie laughed at the memory of that moment then shuddered. "Two times that night I caught Colonel Burwell looking……..lasciviously……at me again. I didn't like being ogled like that."

"But you're a pretty girl," Bordon comment, kissing Melanie's forehead. "He couldn't help but stare, I'm sure."

"But Elizabeth Wilkins told me he is married," she protested. "He should have been longing for his wife in Alexandria, rather than staring inappropriately at young girls in Charles Towne."

"The next day, I bid farewell to Father. He left on a ship to go up the coast to Philadelphia. He needed to meet with the Continental Congress. His pleas and concessions from the King fell on deaf ears there, as well. They wrote and signed their own declaration of independence."

"I left Charles Towne with the Wilkins family to go back home. If I recall correctly, this was the last time I saw Jim Wilkins. Next time I see him, he's standing over my bed in a British fort, dressed in a dragoon uniform, and a Captain!"

"When our family was all together again at home in autumn, Father conceded disappointment with the trip. He vowed, though, never to give up on a peaceful resolution to this conflict."

Bordon spoke up. "Your father was doing just that when your family was attacked."

"So, I've heard," Melanie sighed. She still had little memory of that dreadful day.

After a moment of silence, Miss Prescott settled into Bordon's body, too tired to speak anymore. The couple fell asleep in Melanie's bed, where they hid their love for each other from the world.

*************************

July 3, 2009

Author's note: Hi all! Thanks for reading the first 25 chapters--This is as many as I had written from 2002 and forward. I'm now at the point where the rest of the story is outlined, but now I have to start writing it. So, bear with me, the rest of the story might not get posted as fast as the first 25 chapters did. I will try to get them up as fast as I can write them!

Thanks and stay tuned!

JScorpio


	26. Chapter 26 A Just Punishment?

Chapter 26 A Just Punishment?

Colonel Tavington stood in the clearing by himself watching his men scurry about. He was tired and just wanted to get back on the road toward the fort.

They had gone to meet secretly with General Nathaniel Greene, trying to set up some terms for prisoner exchange. The General was a former pacifist, who had renounced it to join in the struggle. They had brought along Miss Prescott as a 'show of good faith' and also hoping the legacy of her pacifist father might sway the colonial leader. But the negotiations fell through and the small detachment of cavalry soon found themselves on their way back home with bad news for the generals.

The unit was breaking camp after spending a cold night on the road toward home. The small wedge tents were being taken down and packed away. Saddlebags were loaded and put back onto the horses. The men were finishing up with breakfast and some were attending to their morning grooming.

Tavington looked at his pocket watch for a moment, only then realizing that they were running late. Although not on a time schedule for today, the commander was hoping the group could make a quick detour to sweep through the village of Hunter Creek to check out the validity of a rumor circulating in the area. If they could get going in the next few minutes, they would have time to ride through the village and make it back to the fort before sundown.

The dragoon leader looked around for his commanding officers. He saw only Captain Wentworth and Lieutenant Scott and motioned for them to join him.

"We seem to be moving a bit slowly this morning," Tavington commented.

"Yes, sir," Wentworth replied.

"I'd like for us to be out of here shortly in order to take a run through Hunter Creek," the dragoon leader this the two junior officers jumped into action gathering the unit up to leave.

"Make haste, men," Wentworth shouted, "We leave in a quarter of an hour!"

Tavington watched his subordinates getting the group together, wondering where his second in command was. "Lieutenant," he called as he motioned to Kidwell to come back toward him, "Where is Major Bordon?"

"I believe he accompanied Miss Prescott toward the woods," the young officer answered.

Tavington nodded, understanding that his aide-de-camp had taken the prisoner to relieve nature, and would probably do the same as well. Satisfied with that answer, the leader walked to his horse to secure his saddle and pack upon the beast.

After a few moments, the colonel looked about at the men who were near ready to leave. He sighed in frustration as he noticed that his adjutant and Miss Prescott were still not back yet.

"Captain," he called to Wentworth as the junior officer passed him, " is Major Bordon back yet?"

"I haven't seen him lately, sir," he answered. "Would you like me to find him?"

"Uh…no. I'll look for him myself," the colonel replied. "I need to stretch my legs before our ride anyway." With that, William began to stroll towards to forest in search of Bordon and Miss Prescott.

********************

"Oh Alex….I've missed you," Melanie murmured into the officer's ear, as she kissed his neck.

"Darling…..I promise to take you properly..," he whispered against the skin of her cheek, " in one of our beds when we get home this evening."

Moments earlier, the couple had excused themselves from the group to relieve nature. Then afterwards, took advantage of the few extra moments away from the group to nuzzle and hold one another. After weeks of a successful clandestine relationship shared only in each other's rooms at the fort, they hadn't quite found a way to sneak into one another's tents when away on dragoon missions. This morning, Melanie and Alex were exceptionally hungry for each other.

After Major Bordon had rebound Miss Prescott's wrists, he pushed her up against a tree to become affectionate with the girl. As the couple kissed and teased, they quickly became aroused and forgot about their surroundings. The couple had become complacent in their secret relationship, feeling overly secure that they were careful not to get caught.

The two lovers continued to kiss deeply, becoming even more aroused as they did. The couple nuzzled and teased each other, smiling and playful as they did.

"Alex take me now," Melanie said breathlessly, knowing they didn't have time for it but needing to voice her desire.

"I wish I could darling," he replied as he nibbled her ear.

In an instant his mouth moved back to hers to kiss her deeply. Melanie's mouth left his to trail kisses along his jaw to his ear.

In a breathless voice, Melanie begged, "Put your fingers in me."

"You're a naughty girl," he replied to her request, kissing her ear playfully.

Alexander complied, quickly gathering her skirt and petticoats up. In another moment, his slipped his hand underneath the material. He heard Melanie gasp when he sank his fingers into her wetness.

"Will this due until tonight at the fort," Alex asked in a whisper as he nuzzled her neck and moved his fingers within her.

"Yes," she answered with a gasp. Her head dropped back as she felt his fingers moving in and out of her, satisfying her in one way yet making her want more.

******************

William Tavington was still in the foliage of the forest as he neared the clearing. He saw Major Bordon with his back turned to him, from several yards away. He looked around for Miss Prescott but did not see her. He assumed she had been sent back to the group while the major relieved himself on the tree.

As Colonel Tavington moved a few steps closer and the path took him a little to an angle of where he was when first spotting Bordon, his eyes widened and his mouth dropped open at the sight before him. He now saw Miss Prescott, held against the tree by his second in command, who was taking advantage of the bound girl. The colonel could see his aide-de-camp's hand under the girl's skirt.

He was immediately furious at Bordon for taking liberties with their captive. The officer began to stomp out of the brush toward the couple but was stopped instantly in his tracks by yet another sight. He saw Melanie lift her bound hands up and over Alex Bordon's head, resting them encircled about his neck, and kissing the man back. William noticed that she smiled blissfully up at the second in command.

William felt a momentary pang of jealousy within himself. He liked the girl himself, and had still hoped deep inside that he might have a chance with her when the conflict was over. He cursed his self discipline now at the fact that his own second in command had beaten him to the prize.

The commander moved purposefully again toward the couple. They did not notice him there. William stopped about 10 feet from them and crossed his arms in disgust.

He cleared his throat, then spoke. "Major Bordon."

The couple, clearly startled, jumped away from each other. "Sir," Alex answered, moving to 'attention' stance. Miss Prescott pushed her dress skirt down, which had folded itself over her petticoats, surprised at the interruption.

"Interrogating the prisoner, were you?" the colonel asked with an irritated look on his face. His arms were still crossed in front of him as he spoke.

"No sir," Bordon answered.

"I seduced him," Melanie blurted out, wanting to shift blame from Alex.

"She's wrong, sir," the major corrected, wanting to be a gentleman and take the blame. "I was trying to seduce her."

With that, the couple both set about taking the blame for the incident with a barrage of words buffeting the colonel. He looked back and forth from the major to Miss Prescott and wasn't sure what was going on. Confused, irritated, and tired he shouted, "SILENCE! Both of you!"

"Major, get back to the camp immediately. We'll discuss this when we return to the fort," Tavington commanded.

"Yes, sir," Bordon acknowledged without even stealing a glance at Melanie.

"Miss Prescott, come with me," he said, taking her arm and nearly dragging her along with him. "You'll ride back to the fort today with me."

**********************

It was early evening when Tavington's detachment of dragoons returned to the fort. The dragoon leader had been mostly silent the whole way back, furious at having found his adjutant with a prisoner. Once through the fort gates, William immediately started shouting orders.

"Higgins, Gwynne, you are to escort Miss Prescott to her room," he ordered. "She is confined there until further notice. Post a guard."

Major Bordon dismounted his horse and instantly protested his commander's order.

"Sir, she—"

Tavington cut him off right away. "Bordon, I'll see you in my quarters now!"

Alexander said nothing and headed into the manor house with a sense of dread to meet his superior. He knew that Tavington wasn't happy at having found him in intimate quarters with a prisoner.

The major followed Colonel Tavington into his quarters. Both men stayed standing making ready to face off against each other.

"Sir I can explain," Bordon began to his commander, who was glaring at him.

"What's to explain? You were caught with a prisoner—with your hand beneath her skirt to be exact." Tavington shot a condescending look to his subordinate.

"It is consensual. We're together by choice," the major stated.

"Am I to believe that? When I caught you, both of you said you seduced the other," Colonel Tavington remarked. "Just weeks ago, I'm told by Miss Prescott herself that you had been taking liberties with her person. Now you tell me this is consensual?"

"Yes sir," Bordon confirmed, purposely hiding emotion. "I'll admit that we have feelings for each other."

"Why should that matter to me?", Tavington asked. "You broke decorum."

Alex faced his commander and bravely stood his ground. He challenged the colonel at the risk of being insubordinate.

"With respect sir, decorum is broken frequently." Bordon pointed out. "You and I are both guilty of 'looking the other direction' when our men get out of hand with prisoners. You and I, and Colonel Tarleton for that matter, have participated on occasion in activities that have been less than valorous. We were both in that group in Charles Towne that took advantage of that woman when she wouldn't cooperate."

"Be that as it may, you know better than to do what you did," Tavington admonished.

"And why is Miss Prescott any different from any other prisoner that we……..take advantage of?," Bordon questioned.

"She's not," answered William. "But your conduct is unbecoming an officer."

"And what makes my conduct any different from yours or any other officer or man here?"

"You're insubordinate, Major!"

"Why?," Bordon demanded. " For arguing a point?"

"For questioning my words and for breaking decorum," Tavington replied in a heated voice.

The colonel walked to his door and called down the hallway. "Private?" With that, two infantry sentries posted within the house appeared inside the room.

"Sir," one of the privates acknowledged.

"Please escort the majors to the cells," Tavington directed. "He's under arrest."

He turned back to face a stunned Bordon. "Major, you're being remanded to the jail," Tavington announced. "You are hereby stripped of your rank and duties until further notice."

"You can't arrest me for breaking decorum," protested the aide-de-camp. "It's not a law—it's just a guideline."

The colonel said nothing back to his adjutant's protestations. "Private, apprehend him and take him to the cells. Bordon, please turn over your sword and your sidearm."

Bordon took one last stab to keep his freedom. "Why are you making an example out of me after all this time that things like this have been allowed to happen?"

The privates stood there, a little confused at the known commander and his aide-de-camp, at one having the other arrested. Neither made a move, not sure if the protesting was going to continue.

"Private," Tavington urged the soldier on, wanting them to go ahead and take Bordon into custody.

With that, Bordon could see that he wasn't going to sway his commander. It was below him to beg, so he begrudgingly gave up his weapons and allowed his hands to be bound. He held his head up as he was led away to the cells. It caused quite a stir and sensation among the fort inhabitants to see Major Bordon being led away in chains across the common green to the jail.

******************

Melanie paced the floors during her confinement to her quarters, wondering what had gone on with Colonel Tavington and Alexander. She couldn't imagine the amount of trouble he might be in.

Hours later, she was once again allowed to leave her room and roam the compound freely. Not finding Alex in his room, she immediately inquired of everyone she passed as to his whereabouts. The young lady was alarmed to find that he had been detained, then arrested and thrown in jail.

She immediately ran to the cells and found her lover there. They embraced through the bars as best they could.

"Alex! Why?" she asked tearfully.

"I suppose to make an example out of me."

"I'm so sorry, darling," Melanie cried. "I just wanted to be in your arms this morning, if I wouldn't have, then we….". The poor girl's voice trailed off.

"Melanie, even though we've been discreet we were bound to be caught sooner or later," Alex remarked as he kissed her temple.

"I don't understand," she murmured as she held on to him through the iron bars. "It's not as if you are the only soldier doing something you shouldn't."

"I know you're worried, but things will work out somehow," Alex comforted.

*******************************

Moments later, Miss Prescott sought out Colonel Tavington. She found him in the dining room eating a late dinner and confronted him there.

"Why did you arrest Alex?," she asked, hands on her hips, clearly upset with the commander.

"This is military business—it doesn't concern you," Tavington snarled back, not bothering to stand up.

"Yes it does," she argued. "He was caught with me." She was trying to keep her temper in control.

"Very well," William conceded, just wanting to get the girl out of there. "If you have to know, he violated decorum and was insubordinate."

"Colonel, he may have broke decorum but I can assure you that I am a willing partner," Melanie contested.

"Willing?," the colonel questioned as he rose to his feet. "Just months ago you were bawling to me that Bordon had forced himself on you. This morning you told me you seduced him. He says he seduced you. What am I to believe?" Tavington, now exasperated with the young women, looked menacingly down at her.

Miss Prescott suddenly felt scared. "It is consensual, sir. We love each other—it just happened," she pointed out sheepishly.

"I am not concerned with whatever feelings you two may share," he growled. "The major violated decorum."

Melanie could not believe her ears. She could hardly believe that Colonel Tavington was standing behind good manners when she'd witnessed impropriety from the dragoons on more than one occasion.

"Decorum?," she sniffed. "THAT is broken frequently around here! I've heard of the incidents and seen one with my own eyes!"

The officer tried to speak up but Miss Prescott cut him off straight away.

"I heard about the woman in Charles Towne and how you and your officers AND Colonel Tarleton's officers had a go at her," Melanie challenged. "I've also heard about you and Alex looking the other direction when your men get out of hand with area women."

"Miss Prescott, this really—"

Melanie stopped him sharply once again, continuing her point. "And then there was that time in Cascadia at the pub. Did you forget that Alex stayed outside to keep guard over me and the bar matron whilst you and your men locked yourselves in with the barmaid and took turns with her?"

William said nothing. He narrowed his eyes at the young lady. _How dare she challenge me, he thought. _

"So why start to crack down now and why make an example out of Major Bordon?," the girl questioned.

"I have my reasons," Tavington stated coldly.

"_Your_ reasons," she queried. "That sounds personal instead of military. Perhaps you have an axe to grind with the major?"

"No," he answered. "I won't answer any further inquiries from you."

Melanie was frustrated as she seemed to not be getting any straight answers from Alexander's commander. She decided to test him with a bluff. "Perhaps you're jealous."

"Jealous?"

"Yes," she said with a sly smile. "One can't help but notice how the Tory ladies of all classes high and low, as well as the whores seem to throw themselves at you because you're handsome."

Miss Prescott turned away from him and went on, matter-of-factly. "I don't find myself among them. I had my eye on Alex from the first moment I saw his face at my bedside. Perhaps you thought I'd be like all the other women and find my way into your bed."

"Miss, you may claim to be a pacifist," William began, "but you are a colonial nonetheless— a colonial who was engaged to a known spy. I have no desire to share my bed with a woman who consorted with a rebel spy."

"You won't get away with this, Colonel," Melanie warned. "I'll go to the Generals."

"They can't help him," he laughed. "It's _their_ decorum that he broke, not mine."

With that, Melanie turned on her heel and left the officer in the dining room. She thought about the colonel's parting words and knew deep down he was right. She ran the two flights of stairs up to her third story room. Once there, the girl packed herself into her bed, where she cried herself to sleep, spending the long night without Alex.

*********************

The last few days for General Cornwallis had gone completely awry. Many area bridges and ferries had been burned which caused delays for express riders carrying messages as well as an expected supply convoy coming from Charles Towne. Then news that another supply train had been ambushed and confiscated by the rebel militia. And this morning, the worst news of all. Overnight, a carriage and small escort carrying one of his staff, a general who was a liaison between him and officials in Charles Towne had been attacked on the road last night. Apparently the rebel militia men got away with the carriage and the general within. The small escort were able to apprehend two Indians of unknown tribe that were apparently working with the militia. This was strange since Indians were usually allied with the British.

Cornwallis was in a dither, desperate to get this important General back and the papers he brought with him from Charles Towne. He also needed to know why the Indians were working with the militia, and get any information from them. Lord Cornwallis was also particularly eager to get General Wheeler back because he had racked up a huge gambling debt, and if the colonials got wind of this, who knows what might be offered to get the General to turncoat on his Redcoat friends?

Already in a foul mood from the week's events and the overnight happening, Cornwallis had become furious when he found out that his only Indian interpreter, Major Bordon, was in jail, stripped of his rank and unable to perform his duties. Finding out that it was Bordon's own commander that had him arrested, the Lord General stormed through the house looking for Colonel Tavington. He found the dragoon commander conferring on the porch with Colonel Tarleton.

"Colonel Tavington, why is Major Bordon in jail?," demanded Cornwallis.

William was momentarily startled, but regained his composure almost as fast. "He was insubordinate. Why does that concern your Lordship?"

"Because General Wheeler was kidnapped last night on his way back here," he informed. "Our escort apprehended two natives that were inexplicably working with the rebel militia.I need information immediately from these Indians and Major Bordon is the only interpreter around here of native languages. General O'Hara informs me that he has been stripped of his rank and can no longer perform his duties."

Tavington straightened up, clasping his hands behind his back in a formal stance. "That is true. He broke decorum, then became insubordinate with me when confronted."

"What decorum was violated, Colonel," asked Cornwallis, clearly exasperated.

"Your Lordship, he was caught with Miss Prescott…having relations with her."

"Relations? Just what do you mean, Colonel? He took advantage of her? She seduced him for her freedom?" Lord Cornwallis just wanted a straight answer.

"I don't know exactly, sir," Tavington answered. "I caught him with his hand beneath her skirt."

Lord Cornwallis rolled his eyes at the revelation as General O'Hara drew in a sharp breath. Tavington wasn't sure what to make of their reactions, whether they were upset at the revelation of Bordon and Miss Prescott, or upset that he was jailed for it.

Tavington went on explaining things. "She told me months ago that he had assaulted her. But yesterday he stated that he seduced her, and she stated that she seduced him. Last night she told me she is his mistress. I don't know what the nature of their relationship is. But whatever it is, it is against decorum."

"Oh, blast decorum, especially now," Cornwallis stated, clearly surprising the officers around him. "I need his expertise this instant!"

"Sir, he's been arrested and charged. He must go before the court martial before any release," O'Hara pointed out. "And do not forget that she had been engaged to a colonial spy. We cannot let our guard down around her even though her father was a pacifist—she may not be who she says she is."

The Lord General heaved a frustrated sigh, rubbing his forehead with his hand. He was silent for a moment, staring at the floor, then he spoke up.

"General O'Hara, would you please gather both their diaries and personal correspondence to each other for me to check over," Cornwallis requested. "We'll find out the exact nature of their illicit activities."

*******************

Moments later, after raiding Bordon's room and collecting his diary and letters, he found himself at the door to Miss Prescott's chambers. She was irritated and taken aback with his demand.

"No! I will not give you my diary or my letters from Alex. It is too personal!"

"Miss Prescott, this is the only hope you have of getting Major Bordon released quickly and without a court martial," O'Hara proclaimed. "The General needs him today and can get him out this morning, but you will have to turn over your personal correspondence to help with this."

"General O'Hara, I swear to you, Alex and I are together by choice," Melanie tried to persuade. "It is of my own free will. You have to believe me."

"Be that as it may, these written documents may help absolve the major of wrongdoing," O'Hara stated.

Melanie relented with a sigh as she placed her diary and letters to Alex Bordon in the general's hands. She knew that she would be embarrassed at having her personal things read, but it would be a small sacrifice to make if it would help her lover.

**********************

Cornwallis and O'Hara poured over the letters and diaries from both parties. And within an hour, they were convinced that a Major Bordon's and Miss Prescott's relationship was indeed consensual thing with no covert spy activity or underhandedness involved.

The two generals called both their dragoon leaders into the dining room. They explained the findings in the letters and diaries and why they thought that the relationship, though against decorum, was not a threat.

The Lord General stated that he found the couple to be in love. He concluded by reading a couple of excerpts from their diaries to the two colonels. The last was from an entry in Miss Prescott's journal.

" 'Oh for this war to be over and to think of the future with Alex. I cannot wait to spend the rest of my life with him. I love him so,' " Cornwallis read out loud.

"Scandalous!", Colonel Tarleton exclaimed.

"I agree," the Lord General stated.

"That it is scandalous to read aloud from her diary?," Banastre quipped, trying to keep an innocent demeanor.

An instant later, William and Banastre broke into laughter over Ban's joke.

"This is not amusing Colonel Tarleton," Cornwallis said, shooting an angry look at his two dragoon commanders. "And don't you encourage him, Colonel Tavington."

"Sorry sir," both colonels said in unison.

"In fact, I should throw both of you in jail with the major," remarked the Lord General. "You two and your men are just as guilty of breaking decorum. Come now. Did you really think your whitewashed reports fooled me?"

Both Colonels tried to speak up to explain, but were immediately waved off by Cornwallis.

"You two are guilty of turning a blind eye to your men's activities, and yes—I've heard you sometimes partake yourselves," Cornwallis stated. "Do you know how many complaints I have received from area farmers and merchants about their women being defiled? Do you have any idea how many times I've held up for you and your men because I need you? How many times I've covered things up for you?"

The Lord General paused for a moment to let his words sink in. He then went on. "Now, it is apparent to me that while Major Bordon has broken decorum, that his advances to Miss Prescott were welcomed and returned. The couple is plainly in love and that is a strong emotion to deal with. I'd have more luck parting the Red Sea than parting two lovers. I am not happy with them carrying on like this but would rather have them perpetrate their illicit activities here within the fort where we can keep an eye on them than the alternative. Sure, I can try to stop this and transfer him elsewhere and chance her escaping a fourth time to be with him. Or I can send her away and risk him deserting to be with her."

Cornwallis looked at his officers surrounding him, then continued. "No—I'd rather have them carrying on within the fort than to have to deal with expending manpower to hunt either of them down. You've heard the saying keep your friends close and your enemies closer, well if I allow them to carry on here, then we know they will both stay around and I can go about the business of fighting this war."

The Lord General sighed, then spoke again. "Yes, while I do want you men to try to adhere to decorum, in the grand scheme of things, I've got larger problems to worry about in this war rather than who is jumping in and out of bed with whom."

Cornwallis turned to Tavington and shot him a stern look. "So, Colonel, you will have the charges dropped, have his rank and duties restored, and released immediately!"

Tavington nodded his head showing that he understood his superior's request.

"General O'Hara, please send Major Bordon to me immediately upon his release so that we can interrogate the savages and get General Wheeler back before he turncoats!"


	27. Chapter 27 The Truth Of The Matter

Chapter 27 The Truth Of The Matter

In the ensuing weeks following Major Bordon's arrest, the revelation that Miss Prescott was the officer's mistress became a 'well known' secret. It was not talked of openly, but whispered and gossiped about in corners and small groups. The Lord General himself had told the dragoon adjutant that he didn't approve of the situation and reminded him that is was against his decorum and in times of less strife, he would have put an end to it. He gave the major a stern warning: to be prudent and keep the affair discreet. He didn't need the general populace of the area, especially the Continental army, getting wind of it.

So, Melanie Prescott and Alexander Bordon kept their relationship discreet, although they knew that everyone knew about them, they honored the Lord General's request. They affirmed their love for each other on many nights, sneaking in and out of one another's chambers. The couple playfully stole kisses and squeezes in the shadows and when others weren't looking. Sometimes they'd go on long walks together and hold hands when they could.

*********************

Alex and Melanie enjoyed a few stolen moments together this morning. The major would be leading a patrol out this afternoon and would not be back until sometime the next day.

Major Bordon's chambers were filled with the soft sounds of two lovers lost within each other. The couple lay scantily clad in clothing upon his bed, enjoying the physical sensations of pleasuring each other.

Alexander on his back on the bed with Melanie atop him facing the opposite direction. Their mouths moved adeptly on one another's most intimate parts, satisfying each other mutually.

Melanie moved her mouth slowly and sensually up and down the major's hardness. He groaned as she took his length into her throat. The languid movements of her lips and tongue brought the man very near to completion. He squeezed her arms, a signal for her to stop her ministrations momentarily.

As she did, she felt Bordon's lips and tongue moving a bit faster and more aggressively on her womanhood. Then his tongue moved a little quicker as he put a touch more pressure on her hardened pearl.

The girl soon found a delicious heat building up in her pelvis as her breathing became labored. She pushed herself up on straight arms, her elbows locked. In another moment, she arched her back and let her head fall backwards as she came, softly moaning Alex's name.

After her climax, she went instantly to work again on her lover, taking his erection back into her mouth. Her movements on his manhood in her wet mouth drove him insane as he was already aroused by her orgasm. She took his length deeply down her throat, causing Alexander to peak instantly, groaning as he did.

The two, now sated, moved back equal with one another to rest upon the officer's bed. They held each other for a moment as they relaxed and rested, still feeling the tingling of their bliss.

Melanie moved her lover's arms from around her body and sat up on the edge of the bed. The girl reached for her dress which had puddled itself at the foot of the bed. Alex soon joined her, starting to look for the rest of his uniform as he pulled his breeches on.

The girl leaned over and gave the major a soft peck of a kiss. "Alex, find me when just before you leave this afternoon so that I may tell you farewell properly," she said with a gentle smile.

"I will," he promised with a kiss to her cheek, then a light one to her lips.

With that the couple parted ways, both having tasks to attend to before the lunch and afternoon hours.

*********************

An hour later, Melanie was down at the hospital tents dropping off shirts and bits of uniforms that she and Bridgett had mended. The tent was quiet this morning, having not had a battle or skirmish lately to bring in the casualties. Still, she stopped and checked with the surgeons to see if they could use any help. They thanked her, but let her go on as they did not need extra help this morning.

Miss Prescott made her way out of the tent, somewhat relieved that her help wasn't needed and happy to get back to a book that she'd started to read a few days back. She strolled happily through the canvas village making her way toward the green.

She picked up the pace of her walking as she passed the prostitutes tents, never feeling comfortable around them. The girl secretly looked down on them, thinking them in a low occupation, though she didn't show this outwardly as her late father would have frowned on her showing open disdain toward anyone's course of living.

Some of the strumpets stood in a group near one of the tents, making conversation with each other as they saw Melanie trying to rush past them. One of them called out a jeer.

"Well, there's Miss High and Mighty living in style up with the officers!"

Another harlot joined in. "That's not all she's doing with the officers, I hear!"

"Aye, one in particular. Took your best customer, she did."

"Yes. Shame! He paid me well!," Diana, one of Bordon's favorite former whores called. "I wonder if he does the same to her that he did to me?"

The group of women laughed. Melanie acted as though the talk didn't affect her, though she loathed hearing it.

"I wonder if he makes her do the same to him as he made you do to him?"

"Bordon's mistress!"

"Bordon's whore!"

"You know, the only difference between her and us is that we live in tents, and she lives up at the house. Other than that, she's the same thing that we are."

"I wonder if his wife knows he has a regular mistress now?"

_Wife, Melanie thought as she heard their comments. Wife?_ The word rang in her head.

Miss Prescott stopped in her tracks. She tried to brush the comment off and continue walking, but she couldn't seem to move.

"Ooh, looks like you hit a nerve," one of the trollops called.

"He is not married," Melanie corrected. She stopped, realizing she had just spoken up and wished she could take the words back. The girl didn't even want to speak to any of these women.

"Oh yes he is," Diana challenged. "He has a wife and young son up in Jamestown."

"No he doesn't," argued Miss Prescott, letting her irritation show. "You're lying!"

"I beg to differ," the harlot said haughtily, knowing she had the upper hand now. "Ask him."

Melanie was confused and taken aback. She couldn't understand why these women were trying to hurt her. She somehow found the strength to get her feet moving again.

As she stumbled away from them, she heard another prostitute call out a jeer that was particularly disturbing. "Deary. Are you the only one around here who doesn't know that he's married?"

Miss Prescott turned back around, looking forlornly up at the manor house. Inside she was a swirl of emotions. The girl was mad, but yet not sure who or what to be upset with or at. She was trying to stay strong, but yet felt her heart breaking at something that may have just been untrue, malicious gossip. Mainly Melanie was confused. The young woman had truly not heard that her lover was married nor had he ever mentioned it. She knew she should pay no heed to these women and their horrid comments.

Dread also hung heavy over Miss Prescott. She needed badly for Bordon to confirm that he was a bachelor, yet she feared he might tell her otherwise. Somehow she found the courage to move toward the house. The girl stumbled a couple of steps, then began to run away not hearing more cruel words spouted by the group of prostitutes.

"That's it! Run to your married man!"

"Enjoy your life with him!" The group of whores hooted with laughter.

"Believe all the promises he makes you!"

*************************

In just a moment, Melanie entered the manor house, her emotions raging inside her like a tornado. She ran up the steps to Bordon's room and threw open the door, without knocking, to find an empty room. Inexplicably she felt her temper rise, needing to know some kind of explanation to what she had just heard.

Miss Prescott stomped down the hallway to Colonel Tavington's room. She stopped herself, took a deep breath, then knocked. When she got no answer, she opened the door to another empty bedchamber. Then she thought she'd heard conversation coming from the dining room when she'd entered the house a moment ago. The girl raced back down the stairway to see who was in that room.

Once there, she found Colonels Tavington and Tarleton at the table with Captain Wentworth. The three officers were enjoying tea and laughing at one of Banastre's amusing comments. They looked up and noticed Miss Prescott standing there, flushed and breathing heavily. A look of concern crossed their faces.

"Is something wrong, Miss Prescott," William asked.

"Is Major Bordon married," she asked, blurting out the words.

All three of the officers were taken aback. Tavington took a breath, trying to compose the right answer.

"Uh…I don't involve myself in the affairs of my officers," he replied, his words measured.

His evasion made Melanie's ire rise a step. "Just answer me," she demanded. "Is Alexander married?"

"You should really talk to him," he advised in a monotone, "I'm not going to answer that."

"You just did!" Her face contorted, visibly displaying hurt and deep disappointment. The girl fled the room again, not knowing where to go, just letting her feet carry her.

The three officers were astonished as she rushed out of the room, all speechless. They could only surmise that something must have happened between her and Bordon.

Melanie's legs rushed her back up the stairs again. She soon found herself standing in the hallway outside Alexander's room. The door was open and she could see him in there. Though enraged, she hesitated there in the doorway, not wanting to go in.

Miss Prescott thought instantly about running away, not wanting to confront Alex. She thought that maybe if she forgot she heard the rumor, denied it, that it wouldn't exist; wouldn't be true. The girl thought things would be right again if the truth could be hidden—or forgotten.

Before she could run, Major Bordon looked up and noticed her there. The girl heard his voice.

"Melanie, come in," he said with a smile.

She walked numbly into his room. The girl mechanically shut the door behind her. She stood there stiffly, saying nothing.

Alex could immediately see that something was wrong. "What's the matter," he asked with alarm.

She shook her head in disbelief, letting the words flow out. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"What?", he asked clearly confused, but concerned. "Tell you what?" He moved close to her, intending to take her in his arms.

Melanie didn't let him. Instead she snapped out of her stupor and slapped his face. "You bastard!" The girl slapped at him again, trying to hit him. Alex caught her wrists before she could get any more hits in.

The officer moved her back against the wall, holding her there. "Calm down. Calm down," he soothed. "Tell me what is wrong."

The girl dissolved into tears. Alex let go of her hands and pulled her against him. She lingered for an instant, then pulled away from him.

"Melanie," he coaxed, grabbing her hand and pulling her back to him. She batted his arms away and moved across the room. The young woman crossed her arms in front of her, looking down at the floor.

"You're married," she exclaimed shakily. "Why didn't you tell me you're married?"

Bordon was stunned. She had never mentioned this before. He stammered as he tried to answer her accusations. Before he could get any words out, she cut him right off.

"Your wife and son," she cried. "Why didn't you tell me?!

"I thought you knew," he proclaimed. "It's no secret. Everyone here knows."

"Except me," she said, sobbing. "I look like such a fool!"

"How could you have not known," Alex asked.

"You wear no wedding ring," she replied. "You never speak of her."

She turned away from him. "What's her name?"

"Paulette," he answered quietly.

"You have only mentioned her name one time before to me," she stated. "That night in the cabin when you told me of your women. You never finished speaking of her."

"You told me I didn't have to go on talking of her," Bordon countered.

"Melanie, how could you have not known of this," he asked, incredulous. "Did you not listen to fort gossip, or did you blind yourself to it?"

"It's never been discussed with me by anyone here," she shot back, wiping tears from her cheeks.

"Your Irish friend didn't mention it?"

"No," she said flatly.

"I'm sorry, darling," the officer apologized. "I really thought you knew. I guess I took it for granted that you knew I was married. I thought you knew and were fine with being my mistress."

"Mistress!", Melanie shouted. "Do you know they call me 'Bordon's whore'?!"

"No, I didn't," he said attempting to reach for her hand.

Miss Prescott dodged him, taking another step farther from him. "So, tell me of this wife and marriage of yours that I know nothing about."

Alexander felt badly that she hadn't known of this. He desperately wanted to comfort her and allay her fears of how he felt about her.

"It was a marriage of obligation," he began. "I didn't want to rush into another relationship after three failed attempts. I began to court her—slowly. However, I yielded to pleasure one night and she got her bellyful. After one close call prior to that with another town girl, Father didn't let me out of this one and I was obliged to marry her."

"So the child is yours," asked Melanie.

"Yes. The timing of it was right."

Miss Prescott's tears returned. She buried her face in her hands for a moment as she cried.

Major Bordon tried once again to comfort her, reaching for her hand. She wouldn't let him, pulling away.

"Oh Alex," she cried. " I had dreams and plans!"

"Of what?"

"For us," she answered through her tears. She turned away, unable to face him. "I had hoped we might court outright. I thought we might marry one day. I wanted to have a family with you. I thought we could make a life together on my plantation, if his Majesty sees fit to return it."

"Darling, I would like that as well," Alex said, trying to soothe and reinsure the young woman. "I wish I could. But divorce is out of the question. I'd lose my commission and my family would disinherit me. It would be a disgrace."

"I see," Melanie said, turning back to Alexander and scowling at him. "You won't humiliate yourself or your family, but you readily shame me by making me your mistress!"

Major Bordon glared icily at her. "I didn't make you. You willingly became my concubine!"

"I would never have gone with a married man!"

"You could have asked me!"

"Why should I have to?", she objected. "You should have pushed me away and never let things get this far!"

"I am in love with you," protested Alexander. "You just said it. You would never have given me the chance had you known I was married."

"You're right. I wouldn't have."

Bordon could feel things spinning out of control. He sensed something bad happening and knew he had to save the situation.

"Melanie, please let me explain," he urged.

"Explain," she cried, reeling around. "What's there to explain?!

"The situation," answered Alexander. "I don't love her. She ruined that when she rushed me into things."

"Rushed you into things?! You didn't have to go to bed with her!"

"No, I didn't," he answered quietly and humbly. "You have to believe me that I am not in love with her. Why do you think she resides in Virginia and I here at the fort? She and my son have my last name, that's all."

"I'm supposed to believe that?!"

"If I loved her," he pointed out, "don't you think I'd have her here with me as the other married men do?"

Melanie was silent for a moment, reflecting on what he had just said. She felt he was right, but was upset still at the whole situation. His marital status had dashed all the hopes she had for them. She would now have to face the humiliation of word spreading from the camp followers to the rest of the fort's inhabitants that she was ignorant of Bordon's marriage. Despite all that and that she loved him, she wondered if she could really live with being a married man's mistress.

Upset, enraged, and broken hearted, she felt even more violated than when the officer had raped her and stolen her virtue. Miss Prescott made a quick decision. The girl began to cry again, disappointed at feeling she was forced into a choice.

"This is not going to go any further," she sobbed, "It is over between us."

Alexander closed his eyes. He voiced what he feared she would. But still he fought for her.

"Look, Melanie," he pleaded, "I know you're upset. I was wrong. I shouldn't have assumed that you knew."

"Stop!," the girl cried, not wanting to hear excuses.

"Please," he implored, "I don't love her. I love you!" He tried to touch her and was again rebuffed.

"It's over," she exclaimed. "I don't want to see you again!" With that, she bolted from his room.

Major Bordon followed quickly behind her, succeeding in finally grabbing her after she reached the landing of the third floor.

"Darling, wait, please!"

"No," she replied, trying to wiggle free from his strong grasp.

"Please, Melanie," he begged, "I'm sorry I can't give you all that you want. I regret that we can't marry. It pains me that I can't have a family with you. I love you deeply. It's as much as I can give. Isn't that enough?"

She broke free from his grasp, knocking his arms away. "No! It's not!" With that, Melanie charged away from him the few steps to her chambers.

"Melanie, please don't do this," he beseeched.

"It's over!" She gripped the door handle ready to get into her room and away from Alex.

"Melanie—"

She cut him right off. The girl looked him bravely in the eye and said coldly, "Go home to your wife, major!"

She quickly disappeared through the door, slamming it. The girl locked it, then leaned her head against it, crying again.

Colonels Tarleton and Tavington, as well as Captain Wentworth, soon appeared in the hallway on the third floor. They heard the shouting between the couple all the way down in the dining room and went running, thinking Miss Prescott may be in trouble. They arrived just in time to see her disappear through the door and slam it on their fellow commander.

Alexander pounded his fists on the door. "Wait a minute, please, Melanie! I'm sorry! Darling, I love you!"

"Go away," she screamed through the door in a shaky voice.

"Don't end this," he begged.

"Go back to your wife," she yelled.

The three officers heard the last few sentences, and putting it together with the question she had confronted William with minutes earlier, surmised what the couple was arguing about. Now they could tell that the affair had been ended.

Banastre spoke up, feeling compassion for his fellow officer. "Bordon, come away from the door. You're not going to be able to do anything with her now."

Alex looked up at him, shooting him a confused look. He saw Colonel Tarleton inching towards him. Bordon discontinued pounding on Miss Prescott's bedroom door.

"Try again in a few days," advised Ban. "She may change her mind. Women have a tendency to do that."

************************

Melanie Prescott stayed in her room for hours after her fight—or rather parting of ways—with Alexander Bordon. She sat aimlessly in a chair. Then she paced the room mindlessly. The girl curled up in a fetal position on her bed more than a few times. Nothing alleviated the pain she felt at her perceived betrayal by Alex. The young woman found herself in tears more times than she could count that day, unable to control them.

The girl sat listlessly on her window seat, knees tucked up to her chest with her arms wrapped about them. She laid her hear on her knees as if she had surrendered to sorrow. She barely heard the soft knock at her door.

"Come in", she said barely audibly, thinking it was Bridgett trying to bring her some food.

The girl was surprised to see Colonel Tavington stroll through the door of her chambers, looking concerned. Melanie was too lethargic to physically register the surprise, not even lifting her head.

"You haven't been down to eat," he commented, imparting what she perceived as only a small amount of concern.

"I'm not hungry," she said, "and I'm embarrassed. How can I face people now?"

"Embarrassed? Why?"

"Apparently I'm the only person here who didn't know Alex was married," replied Melanie. "I look incredibly stupid."

"And why didn't you ask him about this when you first became involved instead of letting things get this far," queried William.

"It all just happened so fast."

"Miss Prescott, begging your pardon but how could you not know? Did you deny it?"

"No," answered Melanie. "I really didn't know."

There was silence now between them. The officer seated himself a few inches from the girl on the window seat.

"I witnessed part of your row," he stated. "I've sent him on a mission that will keep him away for a few days. I thought it would do you both good."

Melanie looked up, astonished at what the colonel just said. She recalled what the officer had told her weeks before, when Bordon had been arrested. "You told me that you don't concern yourself in the personal affairs of your officers," she reminded.

"I try not to. But when it affects their performance or living and working situations here—"

The girl did not let him finish. "Well, thanks for sending him away, but you didn't have to do that and needn't concern yourself with it any longer," Melanie began. "I've ended it with him. I am not going to be a married man's mistress."

There was yet another awkward silence. The girl wished the officer would just leave her alone in her sadness.

"What must I do to get him back ," Melanie said blandly, as if talking to herself and forgetting Tavington's presence. "I just want to hurt him more than he hurt me."

William guessed rightly that the girl was just absently speaking her thoughts aloud. But he answered her question anyway.

"Miss Prescott, there is nothing you can do now or ever to erase what he has done," Tavington pointed out. "It's a futile effort."

Melanie stood up, her legs hurting from being bent up close to her body. She turned away from the officer and thought about revenge. She wasn't thinking straight in her sorrow and confusion, for the first thing she thought about was going to bed with the fort's officers. She thought that would hurt Alex for sure. And, she would start with his commander.

Still facing away from Tavington, she acted on her impulse. The girl quickly unbuttoned her bodice then turned to face the colonel. She slipped the dress off her shoulders and downwards, baring her breasts.

William was amazed as he looked up at her. He was used to women willingly giving themselves to him, but never thought Miss Prescott would do it—he knew how deeply she felt for his second in command.

"Do you still want me," Melanie asked him in a lustful voice.

"Of course I do," he replied softly, instantly aroused and just as lust filled.

He began to stand to meet her, but she gently pushed him back down to sitting by his shoulders. The girl then hiked her skirt up slightly and straddled Will's lap.

Their mouths crashed immediately into each other in a deep, aggressive kiss. After a moment, their lips left each others, kissing passionately on one another's necks, inciting even more arousal.

William's hands found her ample breasts, cupping and kneading them, then rolling the hardened nipples between his fingers. All the time his mind was still in disbelief that Miss Prescott was doing this, but glad that she was. He was not going to miss this opportunity. The young woman's aggressiveness aroused him nearly beyond control.

After another moment, she looked into his ice blue eyes. "Take me now," she requested.

"Yes," he whispered as his lips moved back to her mouth, initiating another furious kiss.

With Melanie still upon his lap, Tavington pushed his breeches down slightly enough to free his hardness as the girl lifted herself enough, adjusting as he did this. William cared little now if they made it to her bed and were fully naked. All the man wanted to do this instant was to get himself inside of her in the worst way.

The young woman sank slowly down upon his awaiting erection, both of them sighing aloud as she did. Melanie began moving up and down on him, groaning as his hardness filled her so completely. She let her head drop backwards as she felt the man so deeply within her, as if the tip of him touched her delicate cervix.

The colonel tried meeting her thrusts from beneath with movements of his own, but ceased this, sensing that she wanted total control and was pleasing herself with her own actions. Instead he turned his attention to her luscious breasts, sucking hard and aggressively at her erect and darkened nipples.

Melanie gripped his shoulders tightly holding on for dear life as she moved up and down on his hardness. His mouth stimulating her nipples made her move even faster.

In just another moment, the two climaxed together. Tavington groaned in satisfaction as they did, but Melanie dissolved into tears as she came. Her orgasm was pleasurable, but her heart broke at the instance of sharing this most intimate moment with another man besides Alexander.

The poor girl hid her face in William's strong shoulder as she sobbed. A confused Tavington, now feeling guilty for indulging the girl, reached down and pulled his breeches back up. Melanie lifted herself off of his lap.

Still crying, she apologized. "I'm sorry, colonel. You must think me a horrible trollop. I just wanted to get Alex back anyway I could. I thought pleasure from another man would avenge this and make me feel better. But I only feel remorse."

Colonel Tavington said nothing for the moment, glad to have had this chance encounter with the beautiful captive, but confused how else to feel.

Melanie voiced her thoughts aloud again, in a lost voice. "Must I bed every officer here?"

"No," Tavington affirmed. "I don't think that will make you feel better."

"Oh, what do I do?" she asked, dabbing at her tears.

"Remember who you are and where you come from," Tavington began. "You're a lady from a respected, esteemed family. Don't besmirch that name by making yourself into a common strumpet. It's bad enough that as a revered lady, you've become the mistress of a married man. Don't make it worse by seducing all the officers here. Doing that isn't going to annul Bordon's marriage."

With that he bowed his head and left. Melanie didn't ask him not to talk of what had just happened between them, but she had the strange feeling he wouldn't mention it to anyone. She was sorry that she had so easily seduced a more than willing Tavington.

Miss Prescott climbed into bed and pulled the covers over her head. She cried herself to sleep.

**********************

In the few days that Bordon was gone from the fort, Melanie had more than enough time to herself. It weighed heavily on her, making her dwell incessantly in her mind on what had happened and her own sadness. Strangely though, she felt lonely. The girl longed to see Alex, although she hurt. Even though he was married, she loved him still and wanted to be with him.

But she still couldn't get past the fact of being a married man's mistress. She asked herself what had changed, aside from finding out that he was married, something that she could have easily asked him or anyone else about. She began to think that maybe she did deny it—that maybe she didn't ask because deep down, she really didn't want to know or discover that he was married.

Melanie remembered how heartbroken he was as he pleaded with her to stay. She recalled his blue eyes, brimmed with tears of his own. The girl remembered his face and the sadness in it when she told him to go home to his wife.

The girl had ended their affair a few days earlier. Now she was missing Alex badly. Despite knowing it was wrong to be with a married man, she began to rethink her decision, wondering if it was hastily made in anger.

Melanie had seen Bordon's dragoons return just before sunset. It brought tears to see him ride in on his horse, knowing that she was no longer his. Shortly after his return, a servant brought a note to her that Alex had penned. It was a heartfelt letter of his deep love for her and remorse that he hadn't just admitted to her when they began their affair that he was married. He told her in the note that he wanted them to be together, but understood if she couldn't be.

Miss Prescott clasped the letter to her heart as she cried. What was she to do?

****************************

Melanie did not leave her room all evening, purposely to avoid Alex. Now her heart screamed out within her and she needed to see the man. Unable to sleep, she left her room, padding softly down the hall and stairway to the second floor. She soon found herself standing outside of Major Bordon's bedroom door.

The girl didn't knock. She opened the door and tiptoed softly into his room.

Alexander was awake, unable to sleep, wishing he could have seen Melanie this evening. And he was now astonished and speechless to see her standing quietly before him, in her nightgown, after ending things earlier in the week. He didn't know what to say, and was glad to stay silent, lest this was a dream and he break the spell.

Melanie could see that Alex was awake and looking wondrously at her by the light of his fireplace. She didn't know what to say.

After a moment of silence, she said the first thing that came to mind. "The fire went out in my room," she began subdued and very shakily. "I'm cold."

Alex said nothing, instead lifting the bedspread of his bed and scooting himself to one side, an open invitation for her to join him. Melanie said nothing as she took his invitation. She stepped near silently to his bedside and slid in tentatively.

The couple said nothing else to each other, both laying there, afraid to touch the other. After another moment, Melanie turned away from him onto her side, not knowing what to say. Bordon stayed away from her yet another moment, not sure if she wanted his touch or not.

The major took a deep breath, turned onto his side, spooning the girl. Then he slowly slipped his arms about her. When she didn't reject him, he pulled her tightly against him. This brought tears to Melanie's eyes, relieved to be back in her lover's arms. She tried to keep her crying a secret from him.

After yet another moment, she turned in his embrace to face him. Now the couple lay in his bed on their sides, facing each other. The girl brought her hands up and placed them on both sides of his face. She held his head and looked into his eyes. As Alex gazed back at her, he could see the firelight dancing within her eyes.

"I love you," she whispered. "And I'd rather be with you as your mistress or whore, than without you."

"I'll never keep anything from you again," he murmured. "I'll do all within my power to make you happy. I love you, Melanie."

The couple kissed deeply and softly then fell asleep in each other's arms. They could reaffirm their love physically some other time; for now, they were just happy to be back in one another's arms.

The truth of the matter was that Melanie had decided that she would rather be with him and be the mistress of a married man, than be without him and be pious—and unhappy.


	28. Chapter 28 Taken

Chapter 28 Taken

Melanie and Bridget hurried out of the fort gate with their lone escort trailing behind, hardly able to keep up with the two girls. Miss Kilpatrick had been asked to quickly gather some berries to make an additional dessert for additional—and unexpected—guests joining the Lord General for dinner this evening. She enlisted Miss Prescott's help in order to collect the fruit twice as fast.

The girls hastily filled their baskets as they chatted idly. The sentry, a young infantry private grabbed at the last minute and pressed into guarding the two girls, wasn't much interested in the task at hand. He stood by quietly, bored stiff, and only half heartedly watching his charges.

The young women also weren't paying much attention to their surroundings. The two just enjoyed being outside the fort and engaging in meaningless prattle. While bantering back and forth, they were trying to finish up and get the berries back to the kitchen; time was of the essence to get the fruit to the cooks in time to get the desserts baked and ready for the guests.

Miss Prescott stretched her body to collect some distant berries when she felt herself topple off balance. As she struggled to regain her balance, she felt a rough hand clamp down tightly over her mouth, startling her and causing her to drop her basket.

Unable to scream audibly from behind the hand, the girl struggled and flailed as hard as she could to get away from her attacker. As she was being dragged backwards, she helplessly saw Bridgett and the sentry, going about their business and unaware that anything was wrong.

As she was pulled backwards through another hedgerow, her skin stung and burned as the branches scratched her. She also felt her dress getting caught within the branches, sure that it was going to be torn off. Once out of the hedge, she was relieved to see her dress still on her body, but worried about what else might happen.

The dragging stopped and Melanie felt her body dropped unceremoniously on the ground. The young woman looked up and found herself surrounded by non uniformed men with guns trained directly on her. Then she felt a knife blade against her throat.

"Make a noise or a move and we slice your throat."

Miss Prescott said nothing as she looked up in fright at the men. She immediately decided to comply with the threat for her fear of knives was still at a fever pitch after being stabbed 18 months ago. The young woman felt sick to her stomach, scared to even think about what may happen to her.

Melanie kept her eyes cast down, afraid to look her attackers in the face. But after a moment, she became brave enough to steal a couple of quick glances at the group. She noticed one in particular, a handsome young man with blonde hair. The girl recognized him, but couldn't place from where. She tried hard to recall his name, but could not remember.

The men talked very in hushed tones, leaving Miss Prescott to strain to hear what they were saying. She hoped they might divulge something: where they were taking her, what they would do to her, who they were? The group was successful in keeping hush this information.

After a moment more of their hushed conferring and secret hand signals, the men turned back to face Melanie. They roughly jerked her up to her feet and roped her hands. Lastly, a blindfold was put over the girl's eyes and a gag put in her mouth.

Unable to see, she held tight to the sleeve of one of her attackers to steady herself as she was made to walk. The girl stumbled, was caught, and kept afoot. She could hear horses whinnying and stamping, and felt they were near for she could smell the strong, dirty scent of the beasts.

Melanie felt her body gripped, then cradled and lifted upwards onto a horse. By the voice, she knew that she had been put on the saddle with the young blonde haired rebel. The young woman had been able to discern that she was now in the custody of rebels by their local, country accents. She desperately hoped these men weren't part of the zealots that killed her family some months ago.

Feeling with her hands in front of her, Miss Prescott found the saddle horn and gripped it tightly, preparing to ride. As she sat there waiting, her heart sank realizing that she had not heard Bridget's or the guard's voices or noticed a struggle. She could only surmise that her captors had quietly nabbed her and left the other two to go about their business, not noticing that anything was wrong.

After another moment of hushed rebel voices, she felt the arms of her captor lock her body tightly between them as he gripped the reigns. With a tug on them, the horse bolted forward with a jolt, seeming to jar Melanie all the harder since she could only feel her motion.

Although her attackers kept their moves quiet, Miss Prescott hoped her friends had noticed by not that she was missing and had begun looking for her. She prayed that they would glimpse her being taken away and summon help.

***************************

"Miss Prescott."

"Melanie?", Miss Kilpatrick called looking about for her berry picking companion. "Where is she?" The young Irish girl looked about her in all directions, then craned her head to look over the bushes. When she couldn't spot her friend from that vantage point, she walked over to where she last saw her. Bridget spotted Melanie's basket on the ground, berries spilled out of it and knew something was amiss.

"Melanie?" she shouted again, her voice conveying alarm. Then she frantically tore into the nearest clearing looking for her friend.

When she saw no sign there of Miss Prescott, she trotted back toward the young escort assigned to watch over them.

"Private," she called, voice fraught with worry.

The young guard snapped to attention, wondering what was wrong.

"Miss Prescott's gone missing," Bridgett notified the young man.

"Maybe she ran away," he volunteered.

"She loves Major Bordon," Miss Kilpatrick stated," she has no reason to leave willingly."

The servant took his arm and led him to where she last saw her friend. Once there, the redcoat guard examined her basket lying on the ground, berries spilled out of it. He looked over a few feet from there and noticed grass mashed down. A foot over from there he saw lines in the dirt, looking like they may be drag marks. His eyes followed them into the bushes, which were slightly parted. The man noticed a jagged swatch of mint green material snagged on a branch.

He grabbed the delicate piece of cloth. "What color was she wearing," the private asked, unable to remember the shade of the dress the missing woman wore.

"_This _color," Bridgett acknowledged. "This is part of her dress."

With that, the two immediately ran a few steps to the main road, where they peered up and down both directions looking for a sign of Miss Prescott. They strained to see a sign of the girl, but saw only empty road both ways.

"Let's get back to the fort double quick," the private directed. "If she was kidnapped, they attackers may still be around." He immediately drew his knife and gave it to Miss Kilpatrick who happily took it. "Use this if something happens to me." The private then drew his bayonet covering them both as they quickly made their way back to the fort.

At the gate, the sentry called out an alarm and the fort went into action quickly. Tavington's legion, including Major Bordon, were out of the fort on patrol, so Colonel Tarleton took a detachment to the spot where Miss Prescott Disappeared and surveyed it. Banastre, although not an excellent tracker, possessed enough skill of it by experience to surmise the direction the kidnappers went. Still he split his men into two groups going opposite directions in case the attackers had done the same in order to throw off the trail. They rode off hard in pursuit, looking high and low for signs of Melanie and her assailants.

************************

Miss Prescott was sore and tired from riding for so long. She had no idea which direction they'd gone or no inkling of how many hours they'd traveled. The men she was with had spoken little and only in hushed voices when they did.

Early on, when they first left with the girl, the group split into two, wanting to confuse any would be rescuers with tracks in different directions. Although she was blindfolded, she could feel her group leaving the smoothness of the main road. The horse dipped down and forward, off the road into the woods. She also could tell that they must be on a little used path in the forest, for it was narrow, the branches of trees snaring her clothes, grabbing at her body and scratching her.

They would ride through sections of woods on narrow paths, then she'd feel the horses stop. After a moment's hesitation, the horses would step up and cross a main road, for the hooves sounded different, she surmised. Then they'd enter the woods again, tree branches pulling at her again. She would be thankful when they rode through a clearing, a moment's reprieve from the scratching of branches. When she could feel they were in the woods, she'd lean forward, huddled low to the horse so as not to get a face full of leaves and bark. She'd straighten her body up again when she could tell they were in a clearing.

The young woman tried to listen for the bustle of towns or villages but didn't hear any. She rightly surmised that they probably hadn't ridden through any, not wanting to arouse suspicion as carrying a blindfolded and gagged woman with them. The girl also listened for other horse and wagon traffic, hoping they would pass someone on a road or cowpath, but she heard none of that as well. Melanie guessed that whoever these men were, they must know every little used path in the woods and were sticking to them.

Miss Prescott had lost count of how many main roads they had crossed; how many sections of forest they had traversed. She could feel little sensation in her body, stiff and numb now. Not being able to see magnified every bump and jolt she felt on the horse. The girl was at the mercy and hopefully, good graces, of her kidnappers since she was blindfolded and gagged. All the young woman could do was sit on the horse and pray for the ride to end soon.

After what seemed like hours of this, Melanie could finally hear the hustle and bustle of other people and horses—lots of them. She wasn't sure where she was, but was thankful to stop riding.

In a moment she was pulled roughly from the horse and onto the ground. Still blindfolded, she promptly fell to the ground after her rough landing. The blindfold was ripped from her head, pulling her blonde hair. Then her gag was released.

Still on the ground, she looked up at the group that had gathered around her. She noticed that the young, blonde haired man that she'd ridden with, was still upon his horse talking to some men. Melanie looked about at the faces around her, trying to recognize someone—anyone.

"Redcoat slut," one of them taunted.

The bunch of men around her was growing. It now included some of her kidnappers. All looked ominously down at her.

"Well, well, look who we got here," another man commented. "It's Brutal Bordon's Whore!"

"Ain't so much of a pacifist now, are you?"

"Yeah, you share the bed of a British officer, so you must have turned!"

Melanie swallowed hard and burned with shame as the men jeered. Obviously word of her affair with Alexander had found its way out of Fort Carolina. She wondered if—and how—they might use this against her.

The men continued on making fun of her. "All we need now is Bloody Tarleton's and the Butcher's whores and we'll have three of a kind!"

"Hell, maybe she's been with _all_ the Redcoat officers!"

One of the men yanked her up hard from the ground. The group of men soon closed in on her and began shoving her back and forth between them. Melanie fought them off as best she could, trying to push back and throw punches, yet trying to wiggle out of the group.

She was able to get one punch off and landed it one of the men. He quickly slapped her hard across the face, knocking her off her feet and back to the ground.

"English bitch!" he yelled in his anger.

Melanie tried not to cry but the tears flowed beyond her control. She put her hand to her cheek, which smarted from the slap. The sting and burn were horrible, feeling now as if her face had been knocked askew, her hand holding it in place. The young woman looked at the ground, wishing these men would go away.

"That's enough, men," she heard a voice say.

She didn't dare look up from the ground. The girl could see the men dispersing as she lifted her eyes carefully, stealing a glance for the man responsible for saving her.

A man with dark hair, no uniform, looking aged mid forties appeared before her. He knelt down to face her. Melanie looked at him and immediately knew the man.

"I'm sorry about that," he apologized. "Do you remember me?"

"Yes," she said, relieved. "Aren't you Mr. Martin?"

"Yes," Benjamin Martin answered as he helped her to her feet. They talked as he walked her over to a small, wedge tent.

"I'm sorry about your father," he lamented.

"Thank you."

"I know he worked hard to end this war," Martin recalled.

"Yes, he did," she replied with a small nod of her head.

He held the tent flap open and motioned her through. Inside, there was a bedroll spread out for her. "You must be tired after the ride," he said cordially. "You may lie down if you like. You have my word that the men won't bother you."

She thanked him again. They had removed her blindfold and gag, but left her hands bound. "Would you please untie me?" Melanie asked.

"I'm sorry, but I can't," Martin answered.

Miss Prescott looked down, disappointed. She heaved a sigh and shook her head.

"What's going to happen to me?"

"I'm not sure yet," replied Ben. "We were assigned to get you back from the British, that's all I know."

A moment of awkward silence passed between them. Melanie bravely spoke up, trying to gauge what Mr. Martin might know.

"You rescued me from the British," she commented.

Benjamin knelt down in front of her again. "Miss Prescott, why don't you stop now before you start this game," he acknowledged. "You're not going to be warm and secure in Major Bordon's bed tonight."

Melanie's eyes widened at his revelation, not realizing he would have probably known the same information his men had heard. She swallowed hard and shuddered.

Martin stayed cordial, but firm. "You're going to spend the night out here in a tent just like the rest of us."


	29. Chapter 29 Deterring The Determined

**Author's note: There is some VERY broken and bad French spoken in this chapter. I am sure it is not proper or correct French, but intended this way for the character. Like me, she is having to recall French (never spoken fluently by myself, in fact, very badly) from years ago and most likely "butchers" it when speaking it to the other particular character. Nonetheless, the character she is speaking to recognizes enough of the "broken french" combined with her actions and body language to understand what she wants. Thanks for bearing with me.**

Chapter 29 Deterring The Determined

Immediately upon Tavington's Legion's return to Fort Carolina, the officers were briefed about Miss Prescott's disappearance and alleged kidnapping. Major Bordon was instantly furious, charging back out toward his horse, having to be held back by three men to prevent him from taking on the entire rebel army by himself.

Colonel Tavington had orders from General O'Hara that they could not spare too many men to look for the girl. They would have to do with a couple of detachments over two days. After that, they'd have to make do with combining search efforts for her while on patrols.

Almost immediately Bordon and Wilkins, the other intelligence officer, took two small detachments and divided the countryside. They canvassed the area riding furiously, talking to their village and country informants for any information. Before they'd left, they had combed the prisoner compound, questioning their imprisoned informants for information.

Nearly right away, in the village of Devington, the madam of the local brothel, one of Bordon's reliable informants due to the slack jawed men coming in and out, had some information for him. The two talked outside, away from the women and the customers inside.

"Major, I don't know how or if this will help you," she began, "but I have heard a rumor."

"The source?" asked Alex.

"I can't tell you the exact source," she stated. "I heard it last week on a rare night out away from here. I was in the village pub and got into a card game with some older gentlemen from this village."

"Tories?" he questioned.

"No. Rebel supporters," replied the madam. "They're not soldiers—they're too old to fight. They brought up something about that pacifist's daughter."

"What," Bordon asked, his interest piqued.

"May I speak frankly what I heard," she asked almost apologetically, "for you may not like it."

"Yes, please," Bordon permitted.

"They said that she is your mistress, sir," she answered.

"Thank you," he said pressing a couple of sovereigns into her hand.

Alexander neither confirmed nor denied this to the woman. He mounted his horse, staying silent as he thought about what she'd revealed. The info wouldn't help him find the girl, but it let him know that there was an information leak at the fort. As an intelligence officer, he understood and expected that some information would find its way out—that is the nature of gossip. But now he feared that if they knew about something that was kept discreet, he wondered how much other sensitive information was getting out. The officer also wondered if this information might keep his lover safe—or harm her.

***************************

Melanie woke with a start, jerking her head up off her folded arms as she lay on her stomach in the small tent. She must have fallen asleep, but didn't remember consciously laying her head down. Through the thin canvas she could tell that it was still light outside, but had no idea what time it was.

The young woman crawled out of the tent and stood up slowly and stiffly, looking about at the militia camp activity as she did. She felt the sudden urge to urinate badly, and without thinking, began to walk swiftly toward the woods.

"And where do you think you're going, Missy," a rebel called to her, stopping her.

"I have to urinate," she stated in a tired voice.

"I'll take you."

"Very well," she replied, not caring because she needed to pee badly.

The man escorted her to a makeshift outhouse made of canvas with a chamber pot inside. After a moment the girl emerged again, ready to move back to her tent, not wishing to mix with any of these men.

As she crossed the clearing, a group of rebel militiamen accosted her. They grabbed at her skirt and dress, saying lewd things to her.

"Why don't you give us what you give Brutal Bordon?"

"Or are you not used to men lower than officers?"

"C'mon, girlie, give it to us!"

"Stop!," Miss Prescott cried. "Leave me alone!"

The men kept pawing at her, pushing her back and forth between them.

"We'll send you back to your major all used up," they taunted cruelly. "You won't be any good to him!"

"No. Please!" Melanie screamed as she did her best to fight off the men.

"Come here, Redcoat whore!"

About this time, a group of enlisted men, uniformed colonial regulars, were passing by on the main path through the camp. They heard the commotion, especially the screams of a woman. In this particular camp, tensions had been running high between the militia and the uniformed regulars. The militia men were mad that the uniformed enlisted men were paid, and the regulars were upset that the militia could come and go as they pleased instead of serving a set term. The undercurrent of this strife, coupled with the havoc of war, tired and underfed men made for a volatile situation. The men seemed to be just looking for a reason to fight a let off steam. And poor Melanie happened to end up in the middle of it.

The bluecoats immediately jumped in, using the excuse of rescuing the mistreated women. "You men can't treat women this way, no matter who they are! You give us a bad name!"

"Turn her loose!"

With that punches and bodies were thrown. Men were shoved and fists were drawn and insults flung. The warring factions were quickly woven about her, the girl solidly in the middle. Feeling as if she would be crushed, she tried to catch her breath. The young woman shoved back with all her might, trying to drill through the crowd to get out of it.

Soon a rogue punch caught her in the eye, making her senseless for an instant and bringing about flashes of light before the injured eye. When she regained her senses, Miss Prescott continued trying to find a way out of the crowd. She noticed that it was getting bigger, seeming to draw men from all over the place. Her screams for mercy got lost in the din of the men hurling insults at each other.

She surmised quickly that if she couldn't push her way out on her feet, maybe she should drop low and try to crawl out. Melanie tried to drop to her knees but the crush of bodies was too much that she could barely move. She was at the mercy of however the crowd carried her.

After another moment, another disembodied fist landed squarely on her jaw, knocking her out of the group. The hit brought tears to her eyes and knocked her off her feet. Melanie stayed on the ground for a moment, feeling the sting and burn of the punch, but glad to be out of the middle of the fray. As she came back around, she watched the horrid scene of the fight from the ground in disbelief. No one noticed, not that they had even cared when they initially began fighting, that she was no longer in the middle of them.

Miss Prescott shook her head at this unbelievable sight: men all fighting for the same cause battling each other. The girl thought these men and the whole camp absolutely insane. She then decided that she would not spend one more moment there, deeming herself unsafe amidst the craziness. The young woman, not knowing where she was and thinking it was probably near sunset, would take her chances and escape. She surmised that she would be safer out wandering the woods after dark making her way back into British hands than she was to stay there.

Quickly pulling herself to her feet, she watched the fight, still growing with men and seeming that no one was trying to break it up. Melanie could see that they still hadn't noticed her there. She began to inch backwards, never taking her eyes off the action. She looked around once, seeing the fight still distracting everyone. Then the girl disappeared behind some tents, still able to hear the din of the fracas. As soon as she cleared the tent line, she turned and ran as fast as her feet would carry her.

Just as she did, an officer in a light blue uniform who had been barking unheard orders at the men to cease fighting, turned away from the fight in his frustration. As he did this, he caught sight of the prisoner that Martin's men had brought into the camp earlier in the day, fleeing into the woods. When he saw this and noticed no one following her, he surmised an escape attempt. He immediately gave chase. As he ran into the woods after the young woman, he recalled that this was the same prisoner who had escaped from the British three times. The man, though breathing heavily, was cursing in French to himself as he ran, wondering why the girl didn't have a guard on her.

Melanie ran out of one set of woods and through a clearing, looking back to see someone chasing her now. The girl panicked and tried to run faster. She galloped into another set of woods, hoping to lose the man. But she could hear him gaining on her.

Seeing the woods thinning out ahead, the girl kept urging herself on, thoroughly winded. She soon reached a main gravel road. The girl took her chances, running down the road hoping to run into someone that would help her.

In another moment, Miss Prescott felt her body go down hard in the gravel, tackled by the man in the blue uniform. Both he and the girl were scraped up badly and bruised equally as bad by the road rock. The man was cursing the girl furiously in a foreign language. As she tried to wiggle out from under him, she recognized the language as French.

The officer jerked her hard to her feet, gripping her arm in a bruising hold. He continued cursing a la francais as he brushed himself off with his other hand. Melanie had been to France a few years ago with her father on a peace mission and had learned some French there. She struggled now to recall some words, hoping to appeal to the French officer.

The man started to march himself and his charge back toward the encampment. Miss Prescott tried speaking a few words of French to the man.

"L'aide moi," she said, recalling that she thought that was the correct phrase for 'help me'.

He continued to mutter in french to himself, not acknowledging her feeble attempt at the language.

Melanie continued on in her appeal. "Uh….um…..secour moi." Again, she thought she remembered that as another phrase for 'help me'.

"S'il vous plait, monsieur," she begged , referring to him respectfully as 'mister', not knowing his rank.

The Frenchman continued to move her along, at times practically dragging her. And she went on speaking to him in her best broken French.

"Uh..lacher…..lacher moi," she pleaded, trying to convey 'let go of me'.

The officer did not answer her. He shook his head and went on cursing furiously in French.

"Liberation…..um…..uh…..libere moi," she asked again, hoping she was correctly saying ' release me' a la francais.

The officer responded with a tough jerk of her arm, making her wince. Melanie began crying, not wanting to go back to that insane encampment.

"Delivrer moi," she cried, desperately wanting that to be the words for 'free me'.

When she could see that her weak pleas in french were not swaying the man, she cried even harder. "Monsieur, non! S' il vous plait!" She tried digging her heels into the gravel.

The Frenchman stopped in his tracks, turned back to his charge and gave her a menacing look. Miss Prescott cringed when he did.

He yanked her arm again, pulling her along with him. "Sir, please! Please don't make me go back. I'm afraid!"

She finally stopped trying to appeal to the man, knowing that her pleas were landing on deaf ears. The girl continued sobbing as neared the camp. The Frenchman picked up the pace, nearly running now to get back into the camp. At her tent, he flung back the tent flap and threw her in.

Melanie landed hard on her bedroll. She promptly buried her face and wailed.

Outside the tent, the French officer looked about for a soldier. He spied a middle aged militia man and barked orders at him. "Billings!," he summoned.

"Yes major," he replied.

"Please stay here and watch this woman," he directed. "Don't let her out of your sight!"

"Yes sir," he answered.

"Where is Colonel Martin?"

"Right over there," Billings answered pointing across the debris filled clearing.

The French officer, Major Villeneuve, stomped over to where Benjamin Martin stood. The militia colonel was watching men clean up after the huge brawl of a few moments ago.

"Colonel," the Frenchman began, "I see the situation is finally under control."

"Yes, Jean," he answered flatly.

"You really must learn to have more control over your men," Major Villeneuve, who was sent there to help train the militia, admonished. "Things got out of hand too quickly."

"Jean, I'm trying," Martin replied. "Tension is high. The men are hungry and tired. That doesn't help things."

"Yes, I know," Jean acknowledged. "While your men were fighting, Miss Prescott fled."

Colonel Martin's jaw dropped. "She's gone?"

"No, she's back now," Villeneuve stated. "I chased her myself and caught her."

"Thank you, Jean."

"Why isn't there a guard on her at all times," he asked. "She is a troublemaker. You know she escaped from the British on three occasions. Number four was just a few moments ago."

"Frankly, I don't have the manpower to put her under constant guard," he answered.

"Well, something must be done, or she will attempt it again, I'm sure," Major Villenueve pointed out. "She will wait for a distraction then flee!"

"Major Burwell isn't due back until week's end," Ben stated.

Jean frowned at this, not wanting to have to chase the girl a second time.

"Do you have a guard on her now," asked Ben.

The French major nodded 'yes'.

"Very well, then. I'll go now to a commander and ask for help with her," he assured the other officer.

With that, Ben Martin headed off toward the commanding officers section of the camp. He couldn't even predict what the answer would be to his request.

In a few moments, he found himself at Colonel Bratton's tent. After being announced, the militia leader entered the large abode.

"Colonel Bratton, I'd like your advice and help," Martin requested.

"Certainly."

"We have a troublesome prisoner in our midst," Ben stated.

"Who?"

"It's Miss Prescott."

"Hayden Prescott's daughter," asked Bratton.

"The same," answered the militia officer. "She tried to escape moments ago and was caught."

"Oh," Colonel Bratton said, raising his eyebrows in concern.

"She has a history," Ben began, "Intelligence tells us that she fled the British three times and was caught."

"Sounds like she's not very good at it," Bratton said with a light chuckle.

"Apparently not," Martin agreed, "since she is apprehended every time. But the point of the matter is expending men and time to chase her down for said apprehension."

"I see. Put a guard on her."

"That's just it," Ben pointed out. "My militia unit has suffered casualties of late plus I have men on leave for awhile. I don't have any men to spare."

"Hmmm….and the regulars don't fare much better than that," Bratton declared. "So throw her in the jail section."

"I can't," Colonel Martin stated. "We have orders from Colonel Burwell to keep her separated."

Bratton was silent for a moment, thinking how to handle the problem. After another minute, he spoke up. "Well, if she's bold enough to try escape, we'll incapacitate her so she can't attempt it."

"Sir?" Ben questioned, a bit of dread washing over him. He watched his commanding officer closely.

Colonel Bratton opened his inkwell, dipped his pen and began writing. He spoke as he continued scrawling on the paper. "I am writing an order to have her disciplined. Her punishment will both serve as a deterrent to future escape attempts and effectively hobble her."

"I hope it's not too harsh," Benjamin opined.

"No, the effects are temporary," Bratton informed, "but painful enough that she won't be able to walk for the next few days."

Colonel Martin thanked the commander and ducked out of the tent. As soon as the ink dried, Bratton folded, stamped and sealed the order.

"Runner," he called. A small boy soon appeared in the tent.

"Take this immediately to Sergeant Johnson in the Pennsylvania infantry."

"Yes, sir."

Colonel Bratton was certain that he had done the right thing in ordering punishment. "That should take care of her wandering for awhile," he said to himself.

In just a few moments, the messenger boy located the sergeant at arms and handed the order to him. The man opened the letter and read it silently as the runner disappeared.

"Corporal, we've got an assignment."

"Sir?"

"Find Private Blevins," the sergeant ordered. "The three of us will move out in two minutes. Seems we've got an unruly prisoner to deal with in the South Carolina militia camp."

***************************

Melanie sat on the bedroll in her tent taking stock of the new damage to her hide. The girl's skin now bore fresh scrapes and cuts, skinned up from when the French officer had tackled her on the hard gravel. She surveyed her dress which carried signs of the fall as well, torn and dirty.

The young woman heard rustling outside her tent, assuming the guard had arisen to a standing position. Then she heard male hushed voices. She sat up, now , looking about her and listening intently, wondering if she was the subject of the quiet voices.

She heard her guard say, "She's in there."

Melanie looked up with concern at the tent flap as someone pushed it back.

"Miss Melanie Prescott," a strange man asked.

"Yes?"

"Come with us," he ordered curtly.

The young woman arose cautiously, and exited the tent equally so.

She saw three uniformed colonial regulars standing just outside the tent. The men seemed to tower over her.

Immediately, two men took her by the arms and began to lead her away.

"Where are you taking me?", she asked with alarm.

"We have orders to deal with you," the man in front said. Melanie noticed that he was carrying a piece of parchment.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice a little higher now with fright.

The men said nothing and continued to move along. In a moment, the group had made it to a clearing where a wooden stock stood. With that, Melanie assumed she was to be put in it, and began to panic. She dug her heels into the dirt trying to stop the movement. The men jerked her along. She tried pulling away from them but could not get free of their iron grips.

"Don't! No!" she pleaded.

Once at the stocks, the men put her down onto the ground on her back,pinning her there.

"No, Oh no!", Melanie protested, not sure what they were going to do to her.

The two men held her arms and legs down and the man that had led the group removed her shoes, exposing her feet, complete with delicately thin silk stockings. Miss Prescott tried to flail about but was held steadily.

"What?! Why?!" she shouted. The men didn't answer her, continuing to hold the girl down.

She watched in fear as the stocks were opened. The men pulled her forward a little more, her back scraping on the ground. The man not holding the girl down took each of her legs, placing her ankles in the stocks. The other two men continued to hold her arms down.

Then, one of the men let go of her arms and rose to his feet. He took a piece of paper from the other man and opened it. As he did, the commander of the trio moved to the other side of the stock.

"Miss Melanie Prescott," the corporal began to read aloud from the paper, "By order of His Majesty King George, you are to be punished for your attempted escape. You are to be flogged: three lashes each to each foot."

Melanie's eyes widened in horror as she heard the order. She swallowed hard when she saw the sergeant pull a dressage whip from a holder on his belt.

"No….no…please!" she cried. "Oh God! Please don't!".

"NO! NO!" she begged with tears. Her skirt had inched down her legs which were inverted upwards, exposing her knees.

Miss Prescott saw the sergeant's arm rear back. She heard the dreaded sound the whip made as it cut through the air. Next she felt it hit the sole of her right foot, feeling like a knife had cut into her skin. The girl let out a blood curdling scream.

The next lash hit her right foot again, cutting her skin deeply. Melanie felt waves of pain travel down her legs into her supine torso, making her cry out again. The third lash split her skin long ways on her foot from toes to heel, blood instantly pouring out. The sting of the lashing was the worst pain the girl had felt since recovering from her stab wounds.

As the man paused to change positions to drill her left foot, Melanie tried quickly to catch her breath and hold it, readying herself to endure the next set of lashings. She closed her eyes when she saw the sergeant rear back again.

The first flog to her left foot felt as if a hot wire of small gauge had lapped across it. It tore her skin open across her mid sole. Tremors of pain followed her leg down and through her whole body. The second lash felt harder, cutting her left foot deeply longways from ball to heel. The searing heat of the flogging was unbearable, leaving Melanie screaming and begging for mercy. The young woman felt instantly nauseous. She turned her head to the side, feeling as is she would vomit.

The third lashing of her left foot seemed the worse. Melanie screamed aloud, tears flowing freely as she cried. The last blow landed directly on top of her last wound, opening it even more.

The poor girl looked upwards at her ankles in the stocks. She saw blood starting to trickle from her ankles, trailing slowly down her legs. Melanie was panting, trying to catch her breath as she continued to wail. Waves of heat, pain and nausea washed over her. Then her head felt dizzy as she blacked out.

The men removed the unconscious woman's ankles from the stocks, letting them drop hard onto the ground, stirring the dirt up which undoubtedly found its way into the fresh wounds.

The sergeant at arms dismissed the corporal and private. He then reached down and picked up Miss Prescott's limp body, slinging her unceremoniously over his shoulder. The man made his way back over to the girl's tent, bouncing her bouncing her flaccid body about as he did.

When he arrived at the tent, he pulled the flap back and dropped the passed out woman on her bedroll, where her body landed with a hard thump. Within moments, she regained consciousness, screaming out again in agony. The tears flowed as her feet and legs throbbed, making the rest of her body pound with pain. She could feel heat surging through, then engulfing her body. The girl felt as if someone had branded her feet with hot coals.

In a minute, nausea moved over her again. The girl turned herself over onto her back, letting out a yelp as she did for the movement supremely hurt her injured feet. With all her might, she used her arms to pull her prone body out of her tent. Once her head was just outside of the flap, she propped herself up on her elbows and threw up.

When she was done, feeling absolutely spent, she raised her feet and ankles up off the bedroll with great effort so that she could begin to scoot herself backwards into her tent. She took a big breath, trying to steel herself from the impending pain, then pushed her body back into her tent. Trying to keep her feet upwards caused horrible pain, but she knew the agony would be worse if they were on the ground as she pushed backwards against them.

In a moment, she was back in the tent on top of her bedroll and out of breath from the effort. Staying prone, she buried her head in her bedroll and sobbed hard at the horrid pain she felt, plus the humiliation of being publically punished. Suddenly, the girl felt another terrible rush of pain surrounding and rushing through her body, making her gasp.

After another minute of agony, Melanie mercifully fainted.

******************

_Author's note: Foot whipping was a form of punishment. It still is in some countries. The sole of the foot has bundles of sensitive nerve endings as well as small bones. Also, if one didn't want visible scars left such as those from a back flogging, the feet hid the scars well. Foot flogging was very painful, causing the feet to swell, bruise, cutting/splitting the skin with superficial or sometimes deep cuts, depending on how hard the lash was administered. It was an effective and temporary way to incapacitate a person._

_Women as well as men were flogged. The offense usually dictated how many lashes one received._


	30. Chapter 30 Help For The Weary

Chapter 30 Help For The Weary

Melanie awoke, moaning in pain. She wasn't sure where she was as she looked up at the tent canvas. Once the fog of sleep began to clear out of her mind, she remembered vividly being lashed. The pain then seemed to hit her full force and she began to weep.

The poor girl was frightened, not sure what other kind of torture was planned for her and wanted to leave. Through somewhat hazy vision, she noticed two people with her in the tent, gazing over her. Afraid now, thinking they were there to carry her off to more punishment, she began to flail. The movements of her body exacerbated the pain in her feet and legs.

She felt a hand touch her shoulder and she panicked. "Oh….Oh …no! No please!" she fought her arms cutting through the air, sobbing all the while.

Miss Prescott continued to fight. As she did, she felt two strong hands push her firmly, yet gently back down onto her bedroll. Exhaustion overcame her instantly making her give up, leaving her in a mess of tears.

"Calm down. Calm down. It's alright, girl," a gentle male voice said. "We're not going to hurt you. Rest back."

The young woman continued sobbing in her pain and confusion. As she did, she lifted her head enough to catch a glimpse of her feet. They were swollen and red, with the discoloration of bruising across the top of them. This made the pain seem worse, and caused her to cry hard again.

"Oh…no," she sobbed as she let her head drop back onto the pillow. She shook her head back and forth in disbelief at what she saw, still weeping. "Oh…no…no."

"The blows were hard, we could tell," the gentle man commented.

Melanie wondered who this kind man was in her tent trying to comfort her. Her voice was weak and breaking as she spoke. "Who……who are….."

"I'm Reverend Oliver from Pembroke," he introduced, "And this is Mrs. Nelson, one of the women in camp here. She's been helping me to take care of you."

"How long has it been since the……" Melanie questioned, her voice trailing off, not even wanting to state what she'd been through. "How long have I been out?"

"Nearly three days now," the minister answered. "You blacked out right after they flogged you. Since then you've been in and out, crying pitifully."

The preacher shifted positions a little as he reached forward to touch the young woman's forehead, wanting to discern if she had a fever or not. He continued speaking as he did. "We've kept you drugged with Valerian in your tea to help with your pain and keep you asleep so we could work on your feet."

"The damage?," asked Melanie as bravely as she could. She tried to prepare herself to hear the worst of news.

Mrs. Nelson joined the conversation as she put some dressings back into a leather bag. "Nothing permanent. The lashing split the skin, cut it deep, but not into the muscle. No broken bones. We cleaned the wounds with vinegar. They bled much. We've had poultices on to stop the bleeding, then arrest infection. We weren't able to close the wounds with stitches, so we brought the edges as close as we could then put adhesive plaster on there to protect it and coax the wound to close up as much as possible. I'm afraid it's going to leave some scars."

"How is the pain?," Reverend Oliver queried.

"Very great still," Melanie replied through tears and sniffles, "But not as bad as the first night. Mostly throbbing and searing heat."

"That will pass in a couple of days," the clergyman assured. "The ache will be more tolerable then. But about that time, we'll have to get you up walking a few steps to keep your feet from stiffening up and making things worse."

The girl groaned at the thought of walking, or even standing. She closed her eyes and sobbed again for a moment. When Melanie opened her eyes again, she saw Mrs. Nelson packing things up. The young woman panicked again, afraid to be left alone.

"Oh…no…no please don't go," she cried. "Don't leave me by myself. What if they come back for me?" Melanie tried to push herself up with her arms, but sank back down, feeling as if her own body weighed a ton. She had weakness from recovery to thank for that.

"Miss Prescott, they are not going to do anything else to you," the pastor reassured. "They punished your actions to teach a lesson, which they did sufficiently so. No, they are through with you, I'm confident."

Although she thought the man to be kindly, she wasn't very reassured, feeling that the rebel commanders weren't through with her yet. She heaved a sigh, hoping the minister was correct.

"I'll be back later with fresh dressings," said Mrs. Nelson rising to leave.

The injured girl lifted her head slightly, sniffled, and thanked Mrs. Nelson weakly.

Melanie put her head back down on the pillow, only now realizing that she had a splitting headache coupled with the pain of her lashing. The girl lifted her arm gingerly and rubbed her forehead.

"Here, take a drink," directed Oliver as he hooked his hand beneath her neck. He lifted her head gently, helping her to take a few sips of some hot tea.

"More medicine for you," he commented as she took another drink of the liquid. "The tea has Valerian and Chamomile in it, so you'll fall back to sleep here again soon."

Melanie watched the minister as he put the tea cup down. She reached for him, gripping his wrist weakly. "Why are you helping me? Don't you know who I am?," she asked. "I'm Brutal Bordon's mistress! A fallen woman taken up with a married officer."

Reverend Oliver looked down at her with a serious expression. "My daughter, when Jesus was here, He came for all, but in particular for the sinners. As a minister for Him now, who more should I take care of?"

His words, along with his actions of taking care of her, touched her heart, making her give in to tears again. She smiled up at the man. "I can give you no excuse."

"Miss Prescott, you don't owe me any explanation for I pass no judgment," he stated gently. " I've seen good Christians acting horribly amidst this war; My own flock doing things they would never do at home in a time of Peace. I believe the strain of war leads people to act extraordinarily—not always in the best sense of that word, either. I pray that it ends soon so that everyone can get back to the business of leading good Christian lives."

Melanie appreciated his comforting words. "Thank you, Reverend."

"Rest now and I'll be back later," he bid. "Good night, my child."

The girl watched him exit her tent, settling into her blankets as she did. A merciful sleep soon over took Melanie, making her world go black for yet another few hours.

*********************

Rex Culver brought his delivery wagon to a stop outside the kitchen building of Fort Carolina. He quickly dismounted and sought out a servant. Knocking on the door frame of the kitchen, he got the attention of Mrs. Nichols.

"Oh. Hello Mr. Culver," she called.

"Good day, Mrs. Nichols. I have a delivery."

"I'll get someone to help you unload," she said as she wiped her hands on her apron.

"Thanks," he bid, "But first I have a package for Major Bordon that he must sign for."

"Try the main house," the older woman advised.

As the deliveryman Culver turned the corner, he ran into the officer he was looking for. "Delivery for you, Major" he stated.

Alex smiled slyly, fairly sure there was no 'real' package for him, but only the delivery of information. Rex Culver was one of his informants.

Mr. Culver handed the box, wrapped to look like an ordinary package, to Bordon, giving him a blank piece of paper to sign so it would look to passersby as if he was accepting a delivery.

"Inside the box is a name and address of a pacifist family that has information," said the deliveryman in a low voice.

"Details," Alexander Bordon asked in a voice equally as low.

"In the pub last night," began Culver, "I overheard a conversation. This man's daughter saw something odd three days ago: a group of horseman with a blindfolded woman. I didn't hear much more than that."

"How old is the daughter," the officer asked.

"Eight or nine, I believe."

"Thank you," the major said. "I'll pay them a visit." He pressed a couple of Crowns into the deliveryman's hand.

Within thirty minutes, Alexander Bordon had gathered a small detachment of cavalry and departed the fort for Cascadia, a village an easy ride away. Once there they found the small home and meager farm of the Willis family.

Mr. and Mrs. Willis were shocked and alarmed to find uniformed dragoons on their doorstep. "What is it," the husband asked, immediately on defense. "We've done nothing wrong. We're pacifists."

"Yes, I know," Alex said cordially, wanting to allay their fears. He gave a quick look out to the fence line, not far from the house, at his men who were waiting there as directed by Bordon. He knew from past intelligence interrogations that the less uniformed men beating down a door, the more willing the occupant was to open it and speak freely.

"I need to speak with your daughter, please," he requested in a professional but friendly manner. "I understand she saw something quite unusual three days ago."

"Yes. That would be Elizabeth."

The mother disappeared quickly and returned just as fast after fetching the girl. She led her little daughter out to the porch. Bordon motioned for his men to remain there at the fence.

The small girl of seven stayed behind her mother, frightened somewhat by the uniformed officer. The mother gently pulled the girl by the hand out from behind her.

"It's alright, Lizzie," she coaxed. "The officer wants to ask you some questions. He won't hurt you. We'll be right here with you."

Elizabeth Willis stepped before Major Bordon timidly. He bowed deeply to her, as if to a woman before a dance, and she curtsied to him.

He then knelt down in front of her, a technique he favored when interrogating young children. Making himself smaller or lower in height to the child made him less threatening.

"Hello, Miss Willis," he greeted in a soft voice and smile. "I'm Major Bordon. It's nice to meet you."

"Thank you," the little girl said in a dainty voice. "Everyone calls me Lizzie."

"What a fine name," Bordon complimented. "How old are you?"

"Seven."

"Miss Lizzie, I'm told you saw something strange the other day."

"Yes," she answered simply with a nod of her head.

"A very nice lady's life may be in danger," he stated with a slight frown, wanting to convey some urgency to the little girl. "You could help her if you answer some questions about what you saw. You'd like to help her, wouldn't you?"

"Yes!"

"Pray, tell me what you remember," pleaded Bordon.

"I was in the field behind the house," little Lizzie began, "I saw some men on horses cut across the corner of it from one forest to the next. They had a woman on one of their horses. She was blindfolded. When I see horsemen, they're always on the road or a path. These men just galloped across the field and smashed Papa's crops."

"I see," the major acknowledged. He now knew that the group took backwoods and little used paths instead of the main roads. The officer moved on to his next question.

"Were they wearing uniforms?"

"No," replied the girl.

"How many were there," he continued on with his interrogation.

"Six or seven."

"You're doing very well, Miss Lizzie," he assured. "You said the woman was blindfolded. Was she yelling for help?"

"No," young Miss Willis answered. "Something was around her mouth."

"What color dress was she wearing?"

"Green. Light green."

"How about her hair," the officer continued. "What color was it? Did she wear it up or down?"

"It was blonde," the girl replied. "She wore it long and curly."

Bordon nodded his head, affirming the girl was answering well. Her description was that of Melanie Prescott. Alexander was relieved, yet worried at this confirmation.

The officer continued on. "Did the men say anything?"

"No."

"Did they see you?"

"I don't think so," little Miss Willis answered.

"How fast were they going," asked Major Bordon.

"At a run."

"Would you please show me where you saw them at?" the officer requested.

Lizzie nodded 'yes'. With that, she took her mother's hand and led her parents, with the officer in tow behind them, out to the back of the field. Once there, she dropped her mama's hand and took a few steps forward.

"They came out here," she began pointing to the woods, "cut across here, then ran into those woods there." The girl swept her arm across, pointing out the direction the group of horsemen took.

Alex was granted permission by Mr. Willis to survey the area. The officer quickly swept over the trampled crops and went partially into both sets of woods examining the narrow paths for clues. He found none. When he concluded, the family escorted the major back to the front yard.

Major Bordon bowed again to the little girl. "Thank you, Miss Lizzie. You've done a great service for the kidnapped woman." He bid farewell to the family then took his leave of them.

The dragoon aide-de-camp stayed silent as he rode back to the fort, processing the information he'd just learned. At least now he knew a general direction and types of paths the marauders took. But his worst fear had been confirmed: the rebels were the ones that had Melanie Prescott.

Once back at Fort Carolina, Alex Bordon went back over the mental notes he had made from his interrogation of young Miss Willis. He hoped some minor detail he missed would jump out at him. The officer wanted greatly for the few pieces of this puzzle to come together and form the large picture with the answer. The equation was not complete—something was always missing from this circumstance that prevented him from arriving at an answer.

Alex stood just outside the open gate of the fort, staring at the horizon. Melanie's disappearance vexed the poor officer, giving him a headache. The man continued to try and figure things out as he rubbed his forehead with his thumb and fingers. He didn't understand. Aside from the day's tantalizing clue which revealed little more than a confirmation that Melanie had indeed been kidnapped by rebels, he'd heard nothing else of her whereabouts. It was unusual that the rebels were this tight lipped. Usually someone became scared early on and blabbed.

Bordon once again scanned the distance, as if he might see something or someone there. Feeling defeated and tired, the officer let out a heavy sigh and said, "Oh, Melanie. Where are you?"


	31. Chapter 31 Losing Hope

Chapter 31 Losing Hope

In the days following Melanie Prescott's lashing, with the help of Reverend Oliver and Mrs. Nelson, the pain in her torn feet had become more tolerable. The swelling had subsided a bit though the horrible bruising and discoloration remained.

Also in those days, Mrs. Nelson and the Reverend Oliver had the girl first standing for short periods of time, which progressed into a few steps with assistance. The wounds were still an angry shade of red but were healing with no infection.

After a week of the first aid and delicate first steps, Melanie found that she could walk a short distance on her own. Even though she could, she knew she was not healed enough to escape. The Colonial army had incapacitated her in an expert manner.

The days of captivity in the rebel camp were long and boring. Miss Prescott spent the time resting in her tent, recovering with nothing to read or do. The excess amount of time did nothing good for her mental state; it made things worse.

The young woman was weak as the pain from her torture had left her with virtually no appetite. She had become depressed over her situation and scared of her captors, worrying if and about what they may have planned next for her.

Mostly she missed Alex. Melanie pined for his arms holding her. The girl yearned to feel warm and safe again in his bed. She desired his naked body, wishing to feel it next to hers. The young woman longed to hear his deep voice whisper "I love you" into her ear.

Miss Prescott wondered if the redcoats were searching for her; she felt certain they were. The girl was puzzled as to why the brave and audacious dragoons hadn't raided the camp. The young woman was curious to know if they had heard about her escape attempt.

With nothing but time on her hands, the girl pondered what next the rebels had planned for her. Would they kill her? Send her to prison? Mostly, she wondered if she would ever see Alexander Bordon again. Just the question of this brought tears to her eyes.

Melanie recalled their last time together: he'd made passionate, yet gentle love to her and they'd fallen asleep in one another's arms. The girl remembered how she woke up alone the next morning as Alex had slipped out of bed quietly for an early patrol, not wanting to wake his lover. What if this was the last time she would ever see him?

As the young woman ruminated over all this, she began to sob hard. She threw her arm up over her eyes as she lay dejected on her bedroll.

"Oh, Alex," she cried, "I miss you. I love you. Please come. Please find me, Alex. I'm afraid."

*************************

Colonel Harry Burwell was glad to be back in camp after having been gone several days, meeting with General Greene. The Colonial commander was equally as happy to hear of the apprehension of Miss Melanie Prescott, who he'd not seen since 1776 in Charles Towne at a meeting, then party later the same evening. The officer had given the order to recover the girl and was very pleased to have her in their custody.

After riding all night, he'd taken the morning off to sleep a couple of hours. After that, he'd spent the lunch hour, afternoon, and supper meeting with his men and catching up on his work that had accumulated in his absence. The colonel was glad to finally have some time alone in his tent. But this evening, there was one more matter that needed his attention: to meet with the late Hayden Prescott's daughter.

After taking a few minutes to relax and catch his breath at the desk in his tent, he felt ready to give up his solace once again to meet with the prisoner. Burwell looked over at his aide-de-camp, who was busy looking over some maps spread out on a small table.

"Captain," called the colonel, "would you please fetch Miss Prescott and bring her here to me."

"Yes sir." With that the adjutant disappeared from the tent. Harry leaned back, putting his legs up on his desk to give them a bit of a stretch. He took a deep breath, held it, then let it out. The officer rubbed his temples as he thought about the matters he wanted to discuss with the Prescott woman. He had a reprieve of a few more minutes of quiet and solitude before she would appear, and the man relished it.

***************************

Melanie Prescott had nearly fallen asleep for the evening when a rap on the tent pole roused her. She looked up to see a young man's head peaking through the canvas flap.

"Miss Prescott?"

"Yes?", she answered as she slowly moved up to a sitting position.

"I'm Captain Zeller, Colonel Burwell's subordinate," he introduced, "You've been summoned to his tent for conference."

"Very well," answered Melanie in a shaky and unsure voice. The girl, still sore from her rough treatment, was weary of all rebels and colonials around her now.

The young woman crawled slowly out of her tent, still favoring her aching feet. She painfully rose to her feet with the hand of Captain Zeller, who'd extended the aid when he saw how stiff her body was.

Once she got to her feet, stood solidly and got her bearings, she noticed two uniformed privates with the young officer. With not a word from them, each one moved to either side of her and took an arm in a firm grip. Melanie immediately went into a panic, wondering if they were really taking her to Colonel Burwell or someplace to inflict more pain.

The girl began to hyperventilate as her mind raced. Not knowing what to say, she opened her mouth, letting whatever words that would chance to come out suffice as her protest.

"Please, I've done nothing wrong," she pleaded, "I've been in my tent all week."

"Yes, we know that," replied Captain Zeller in a disconnected manned. "These men are here to escort you to see that there is no further trouble from you. You have been labeled as 'difficult'. All known troublemakers are required to have chaperones while in our custody."

These words did little to ease Melanie's fears. The girl was agitated and on her guard, looking about her as they marched her along to meet with Colonel Burwell. She hoped that this was the truth; that they hadn't lied to her and were escorting her into a trap.

The men's strides were longer than Melanie's, and her poor abused feet, as well as her lack of stamina, could hardly keep pace with her escorts. The long walk across camp found the girl nearly being dragged by the two privates as they neared the Colonel's tent.

Miss Prescott found herself winded, nearly leaning on her uniformed chaperones, as she stood waiting outside Burwell's tent. She had watched the young captain disappear through the tent flap, then heard lowered voices speaking through the canvas. However, the only words she could discern were "she's here."

In a moment, Melanie saw the canvas flaps part, and was moved into the large tent. Her feet were aching badly now as she continued to lean on the escorts to help keep her standing.

"That will be all," Captain Zeller advised. "Thank you, men."

At the dismissal, the two privates whom she so gingerly clung to instantly disappeared, leaving the poor girl to fall to the ground hard. The tumble aggravated her already decimated feet, making her whimper aloud.

Captain Zeller quickly grabbed a wooden chair and raced to the young woman's side. He again offered her his arm, helping her back up and into the seat. As this transpired, Colonel Burwell finally arose from his desk, looking silently and coldly at his adjutant and the prisoner.

"That will be all, Captain," Burwell directed with little emotion in his voice and on his face. "Please see that we are not disturbed."

"Yes, sir," the captain acknowledged. As he exited the tent, Melanie felt that little twinge of fear move back into the pit of her stomach as she was now alone with this most powerful commander. She tried to allay her own fears, remembering the man's manner in Charles Towne of a few years ago.

The girl recalled that while he was a serious man, quiet, dedicated to duty, he was also given to occasional genial words and with an equally as warm smile. Her strongest recollection of him was that he was an ardent colonial patriot, one of those no longer desiring a monarchy. These memories served to calm her down only a little.

"Ah, Miss Prescott," Burwell began, a bit of a country drawl in his voice, "how do you fare?"

This greeting irked the young woman. She was sure he had been apprised of the events of late. The girl forgot trying to stay calm and in control.

"You know damn well how I fare," Melanie snapped. "Do I have you to thank for this?" With palm up, she gestured downward toward her injured feet.

"No, miss," he answered, not acknowledging her ire. "I didn't order it—I only just arrived back in camp this morning. It was one of the other commanders."

An awkward silence then passed between the two. Colonel Burwell turned away from her, looking at something on his desk. While he did, Melanie thought about the way she had answered the man—the tone of her voice, and cringed inwardly. She thought she'd best pull back on her rebellious tongue lest she be labeled as 'impertinent'. They already called her 'difficult' and a 'troublemaker.'

The colonial commander took off his dark blue jacket and hung it on the back of his desk chair. As he turned back to face the young woman, he loosened his collar and cravat. He spoke again as he finished that task.

"I trust you won't try anything stupid again?"

"No," she replied flatly. "You've effectively hobbled me."

Melanie, still seated, regarded the man's demeanor as she tried to appear as if looking about his tent. While she did know him to be a man of few words, his manner was stone like, showing no outward emotion. This scared the girl since she could not gage what he was thinking, therefore leaving her helpless as to prepare herself for any conversation or actions coming her way.

"Tell me, Miss Prescott," queried Burwell, "How did the British punish your three escape attempts?"

"They didn't," she answered. "But the last attempt was followed by a promise to be sent to the prison ships. _That_ alone stopped me from fleeing again."

"That alone?" he repeated her words in the form of a question. "I'm sure that wasn't the only circumstance that stopped you from fleeing. On the contrary, you stayed with the redcoats willingly." He looked at her, his eyes piercing through her, making the girl squirm noticeably.

Melanie shifted in her seat. "Willingly?" she now repeated his comment in a questioning tone. The girl tried to hide her nerves. She wondered fleetingly if this understated commander might be her undoing. After all, she had heard the old saying 'it's the quiet ones you must watch out for.'

"Don't play games with me, Miss Prescott," the officer warned, only a trace of malice in his voice. His eyes seemed to reflect the same warning. "Everyone knows you share Brutal Bordon's bed."

The young woman said nothing, not willing to pursue a discussion regarding her life with Alexander. She hoped her silence would discourage him from any further questions on the matter.

Colonel Burwell stepped a little closer to the woman. He bent down slightly, his head only a little above the girl's.

"So tell me," the commander appealed, "Are you a turncoat?"

Miss Prescott rose slowly. She tried to conceal the pain in her feet and legs, stiffened from just a few moments of sitting. Gritting her teeth as she straightened, the girl took a deep breath as she steadied herself, wanting to stand firm before the colonial leader.

"I most certainly am not," she said, holding his gaze.

"Come now, you cannot be mistress to a British commander, a master at intelligence, without you having gained his trust somehow."

The young woman felt rebellion boiling again within her head, feeling the need to give him some disobedient answer. But she remembered herself and the awful labels she'd already earned. She tried to keep herself together, but his unemotional, steady manner was unnerving her more and more with each question he posed.

"I am still a pacifist," answered Melanie slowly. "He doesn't make Loyalist demands of me."

"Does he not?" Burwell questioned, his face registering little surprise.

"No."

"I don't believe you," declared the colonel as he turned away from the young woman. The suddenly, the man turned back to face the girl quickly, clearly startling her.

Miss Prescott jumped slightly. The colonel's movements and words had all been slow and measured, as if he had the luxury of time to interrogate, then dwell on the answers. She had expected him to stay turned away from her, perusing objects around his tent, _not_ shift back to her so soon.

But his swift twist back to face her brought an unexpected benefit with it: his face now showed emotion. The girl finally had something to work with—an inkling of what was going on in the officer's head. She hoped this might give her the upper hand, or at least help her prepare a defense if needed.

The colonial commander's eyes had narrowed in contempt of the young woman. His lips were drawn tightly in scorn.

"You're no more than a redcoat slut," he accused, his voice steady, "catering to the whims of your new master. If your father were alive, he would be disappointed that you've become the mistress of a married British officer."

Melanie's mouth dropped open. _How dare he presume to know what my beloved father would have thought._ The girl could not let this horrid remark pass by lightly. She opened her mouth, letting whatever bit of rebellion slip out freely.

"If rebel zealots wouldn't have massacred my family," she challenged, "then papa would be alive and I wouldn't _be_ in this mess!"

Crossing her arms in front of her chest, Melanie stared silently at the colonel. He stared back, equally as unwavering. Both of them seemed to mutely dare the other to make the next move.

After another moment, Melanie felt lightheaded. She broke the stare to reach behind her to hold on to the chair for balance. As her hand felt the wood, she casually gripped the chair back, trying not to give away her sudden physical weakness.

Miss Prescott sat back down, needing to rest. She heaved a sigh as she looked at the grass serving as the tent floor, beneath her tender feet. The girl looked back up at her captor. Her gaze had softened as his returned to deadpan.

"Please," the girl asked, "I beg you to parole me to the custody of my Aunt and Uncle Prescott in Gettysburg, up north in Pennsylvania. They will vouch that I will not be a troublemaker or nuisance for _either _side up there."

"Absolutely not," answered Burwell with a stone demeanor. "I'm not going to send you to a region controlled by the British. You've seen our camp now, and you know too much. Who knows how long it would be before you'd be back in Bordon's bed sharing information about us."

"He's a good intelligence officer," she shot back. "He will get the information himself. Alex doesn't need to depend on me to provide it."

"If he's that good, where is he now?" queried the officer. "Why hasn't he come to your rescue?"

That was it—the dreaded remark. It undid the girl, making her mind wander for a moment, thinking about her lover and longing for him.

Burwell smiled inwardly. The commander could tell that he was starting to beat the girl down emotionally. He concealed the satisfaction he felt inside at knowing she was unraveling.

"Seems we've hidden you well," he pointed out.

She looked up at the colonial leader. "What are you going to do with me?"

"We're sending you to a prison camp," stated the commander as he took a step backward.

"But why?", asked Miss Prescott. "I was already disciplined once for escaping."

"No, not for fleeing," Burwell noted, "For being a turncoat."

The colonel took a drink of wine from a glass on the edge of the desk then simply remarked, "We hang traitors."

Melanie's eyes rounded as her mouth dropped open. She couldn't believe what she had just heard.

Noting the girl's alarm, he drew in a deep breath, then let it out slowly as he looked up at canvas tent ceiling. His eyes moved back to Miss Prescott as he went on speaking.

"Relax. We're not sending you anywhere until I'm through with you," he said blandly.

With that, the colonel turned away from the girl again and took a few steps across the large tent. His fingertips brushed over a map of Charles Towne that lay open on the table.

"Tell me," the colonel addressed her from several feet away, still near the map table, "do you recall hearing talk around your fort of an incident in Charles Towne with a woman there and the dragoons?"

Indeed Melanie had heard fort gossip of the event, the innuendo of which had disturbed her greatly. But she never asked Alexander about it, knowing better not to inquire about the cavalry's military business. The girl didn't know the full details of the incident, but had decided that she would rather not know the facts and what part her lover might have played in it.

"No," she lied. "I've heard nothing of the sort."

Burwell knew better; he knew the young woman was prevaricating.

"Hmm….Have you not?," he sniffed, a bit of emotion threatening to break through. "Well, a young widow woman there was accused of giving money to aid the rebels. When she denied it, the Redcoat cavalry, two units of them, deemed her as uncooperative and ……dealt with her."

Colonel Burwell again moved back over close to where Melanie was seated. He continued on with details of the event in Charles Towne. "The dragoon commander had his way with her, then let all of the other officers do the same."

Miss Prescott kept silent, afraid to say anything. The girl also fought to keep her feelings hidden, not wanting to let on that she had vague knowledge of the happening.

Burwell finished the account. "The woman that happened to is Isabella Pritzer."

"Isabella BURWELL Pritzer," , he pointed out, emphasizing greatly the name 'Burwell'. "My younger sister."

Melanie sucked in a breath in horrendous surprise. As she let it out, she closed her eyes. Her head dropped downwards and her throat seemed to constrict. The girl swallowed hard as she thought of the revelation. A dark feeling in Miss Prescott's gut told her that the rebel commander spoke the truth. Her heart sank as she realized that her rough treatment at the Colonials' hands wasn't over yet.

"I had nothing to do with that," she proclaimed, wanting him to believe her innocence.

"Just as my sister had nothing to do with giving money to the rebel cause," Burwell calmly volleyed back, "But your redcoat friends didn't believe her."

The colonel took a breath, keeping himself in amazing control. He elaborated more. "My widowed sister _had_ been engaged to marry again. Her fiancé broke off the engagement after the incident, not wanting to be where so many redcoats had been. She's been cast out of Charles Towne society as well."

Colonel Burwell stopped for a moment, looking introspective. Then he voiced an afterthought. "To say that it changed her life is an understatement."

"Sir, please," Melanie began, trying to appeal to the man's common sense, "A group of men—rebels—severely changed my life as well. I've not called for revenge. It would do me no good nor bring my family back."

"On the contrary," said the officer sharply, "You've taken your revenge in a subtle way: bedding a British officer every night!"

Feeling a sense of dread wash over her, the young woman shook her head in mute worry. She correctly felt that Colonel Burwell blamed her not for the assault, but just for being associated with the dragoons that committed the act. And because he couldn't—or refused—to separate the innocent, the guilty, and the event in general, Melanie had a grave feeling that she may be made to pay for the dragoons' misdeeds.

"My sister is ruined," Burwell reiterated. He stared ominously at Miss Prescott, accusation apparent on his face and in his eyes. "Her reputation has been stained forever by the men you keep company with."

His last phrase echoed around her mind. Melanie closed her eyes and shuddered, distressed that something grim was in store for her.


	32. Chapter 32 A Broken Spirit

Chapter 32 A Broken Spirit

Miss Prescott stayed quiet for a moment as she looked down dejectedly at the grass. The girl had the strong feeling that revenge would be exacted on her, but she had no idea what and when. In normal circumstances, without the lingering physical pain of discipline coupled with mental and emotional confusion, she would have had the strength to try to prepare herself for some kind of punishment. The young woman now felt so defeated, that submission to whatever her fate might be, although abhorrent to her, seemed easier than resistance.

While still pondering what to do, she sighed and raised her eyes slightly. She saw movement in her peripheral vision and before she knew it, Colonel Burwell was standing over her. Before Melanie could envision another thought, the officer grabbed her arm and yanked her hard up out of the seat.

The young woman had no idea the retribution would begin so quickly and was stunned. She couldn't even protest as the colonel pulled her roughly through the tent. In an instant, Miss Prescott found her arms wrenched up above her head, where Burwell hooked the rope that bound her wrists on a nail protruding from the tent pole.

Melanie instinctively began yanking at the hook, which only served to snag the rope further on the nail, firmly snaring her to the pole. She seemed to forget that the man still stood there as she began pulling and pushing her arms and body back and forth, trying to topple the column that held the tent up. The woman was facing the wooden pole, which held firm.

"You're going to wear yourself down," commented Burwell. "That pole is sunk securely in the ground, so you're not going to bring the tent down."

The man walked around to the other side of the column, now facing his prisoner. He knocked on the pole with his fist. "It's thick and the wood is solid. You're not going to break it, either. And that's a strong rope fiber, snared securely on the nail."

The girl stopped fighting, closed her eyes and sighed. She kept her eyes downcast, not wishing to look at Colonel Burwell.

The man walked back around the pole to where he was behind her again. He bent his body downwards and caught the bottom hem of her dress. The officer began to gather the dirty and tattered skirt up into his hands.

Melanie gasped when she felt his right hand on the inside of her right thigh. He began to caress her skin there, slowly inching his hand up her leg.

"Oh no! Please don't!," she cried.

The girl let caught her breath and held it when she felt his hand brush lightly over her bare crotch. She felt him cup her there, then move his hand again, feeling his fingers lightly tracing the folds of her womanhood.

"Please don't do this," she appealed. "You're married."

"So is Major Bordon," he countered. "That never stopped you."

Then she felt the man move closer to her, pressing his body into her hers. She closed her eyes in dread as she felt his arousal against her backside.

Without warning, he drilled two fingers up into her, thrusting them in and out a couple of times. Melanie groaned, not wanting the man near her, let alone probing her.

Burwell smiled as she became wet against his fingers. He moved close to whisper in her ear. "There we go," he purred. "You like that, don't you?"

The girl fought back tears as she realized her body was betraying her. She cringed as she felt his breath on the shell of her ear.

"I'm sure it's been days since your lover has been inside you," Burwell teased, "You're ready for it now. You want it."

After another moment of fingering her, the officer withdrew them from inside her. Melanie sighed with relief but she had no ease as he continued to taunt her.

"You've been with all the British officers at the fort, haven't you," he mocked. "How does Bordon like sharing you?"

"Don't. Please!," she protested weakly, her voice breaking.

Melanie twitched when she felt the man's finger touch the bud between her legs. The girl was helpless to stop any of his sensual assault with her bound wrists stuck on the hook.

The colonel began to slowly massage the pearl, feeling it harden into a small erection from her body's involuntary reaction to the stimulation. "You like that, don't you?," teased Burwell.

The young woman clamped her eyes shut, recoiling at her body reacting to the man. She cursed her physical being for betraying her. The girl tried hard to fight it, stiffening her body, trying to will herself out of it.

Colonel Burwell continued harassing her with his words as his fingers kept on in a steady rhythm, daring the woman to try and fight it. "So now that you're in our custody, do you intend to sleep with all the colonial officers, too?"

Melanie felt a familiar warmth building in her pelvis. Her mind screamed aloud at her body and soul, scolding her inwardly for succumbing to pleasure even though she was unwilling. The girl tried to focus on keeping her breathing even, but was quickly losing that battle.

Burwell discerned from her womanly wetness, erratic breathing and tenseness of her body that he was winning this battle of will—and body. He smiled to himself at the success of confounding the girl's physical being. His intent to bring the girl to completion, thus shaming her with an orgasm, was near fruition.

The colonial officer moved in close again to her ear, making sure she could feel his breath teasing it. "Go ahead and cry out if you'd like," he coaxed, yet gibed, "the men outside will assume you are adding another officer to your collection."

Warmth began to diffuse through Melanie's body and being as her breathing became more labored. She did her best to hold her signs of pleasure in, but her body defeated her heartily. The steady movement and pressure of his finger against her core had brought her to the edge.

"I'm sure you wish it was Bordon's fingers down there," jeered Burwell.

This insult made the girl's mind flash a quick image of Alex doing the same thing to her. That, coupled with Burwell's patient physical assault was all that was needed to send her to the zenith.

Though telling herself she would stay quiet, Melanie could not suppress the unwanted physical feelings of pleasure and cried out as spasms pulsated throughout her body. "Oh God…..oh….mmm..oh," she moaned.

"You are a whore, aren't you?" Burwell derided, satisfied that he was able to break her will.

That last cruel comment and the reality that she'd been brought to completion against her will were more than the young woman could take. Melanie rested her forehead against the tent pole and began to weep openly, ashamed that she'd had an orgasm in front of this colonel, and distressed that it was caused by another man and not her lover. The remorse she felt at her perception of betraying Alex left her distraught. As she sobbed, the young woman hoped that her humiliation was over.

As she wept, she felt the colonial commander reaching upwards, unhooking her bound wrists from the pole. Her arms were sore from having been extended above her head, and her feet hurt from having stood still on them for more than a few moments. Despite these pains, Melanie was relieved for the moment to be liberated from the wooden column.

Unfortunately her reprieve was only momentary for she was soon hustled away from the pole by Colonel Burwell. When he reached his cot, he threw her battered body onto it.

"Oh God no," she cried in exasperation, "please no!" Melanie, with her wrists still bound, tried to scramble off the bed, not even caring if it meant a fall to the ground.

The colonial commander dropped his body onto hers, effectively pinning her weakened person down. The girl still tried fighting him, trying to get a jab or hit in with her bound hands. The man calmly grabbed her wrists, pushed her arms above and over her head then laid them on the pillow.

"Don't fight," he said in a calm voice as if giving a friend advice. "It's easier on us both if you don't."

Tears ran freely from Melanie's eyes as she protested. "Please don't," she appealed in a weak voice. "Haven't you had enough of me already?"

Burwell did not acknowledge her request. Instead he reached back and down his leg.

He noticed that he had the girl's full attention, her eyes following his movements. The officer watched her face intently as he slowly brought a sheathed knife up in front of him.

He moved it above her head to where he held her wrists down, deftly slid the sheath under one hand and removed it with the other, all the while keeping the girl pinned. Burwell left the sheath between his hand and hers so that she could feel the hard leather pressing into it. The hand that wielded the dagger brought it down slowly in front of her face then to her chest, the girl watching it intently the whole time.

Melanie gasped, stopping her tears for a moment. She shook her head in disbelief, mouthing the word 'no' as she did. When the initial astonishment let go of her voice enough to make a sound again, fear claimed it, leaving it at only a whisper. "No….No..!". The girl closed her eyes.

Still holding her down, the colonel pointed the tip of the knife toward her chest. He pulled it slowly down just above her navel then inserted the blade into the cloth of her dress. The polished sharpness of it cut well through the light green material.

At the sound of fabric ripping, Miss Prescott opened her eyes, looking down in time to see the blade cutting up through her dress bodice. The young woman cursed herself for this was one of the few times she wore no corset realizing now that the stiff material and boning of a stay would give him some trouble.

Burwell, weapon still in hand, pushed back first one side, then the other of her bodice to reveal her white shift beneath. Starting at the same point again, he pulled the knife blade upward. The girl held her breath, wanting not to breathe and hold as still as possible with that dagger point so close to her abdomen. In an instant, the delicate undergarment now had a clean slice in it.

The officer bent forward over Melanie again, reaching up to replace the blade back into the leather scabbard on the bed just above her head. He left the instrument there as he switched hands now letting one hold her down and the other moving down to her chest. Burwell pushed her shift to either side of her chest, revealing her bare breasts to him.

Before Melanie could utter any protest, she felt the man's mouth on them. The girl closed her eyes again, wishing her attacker would dispense with the foreplay and seduction and just get on with the evil act. However, Burwell was enjoying drawing the assault out.

The officer took his time, kissing and suckling at her nipples as if he were her rightful lover and possessor of her body. Indeed he did own her person for the time being. The girl shuddered, wanting him to stop but not pleading aloud as she knew it would do her no good.

After only a couple of minutes, but what seemed longer to Miss Prescott, the man reached back above her head and brought the sheathed knife back down. He kept her pinned down with one hand as he did. The young woman watched him carefully as he stared at the knife quietly.

After perusing the weapon, his eyes shifted to look ominously at the girl. He broke the silence, with a terrible question. "Hmmm… Which end of the knife shall I fuck you with?". He posed the query in a nonchalant fashion, almost as if thinking aloud. "Both ends will hurt."

Melanie's eyes rounded as she drew in a sharp breath. "No! Please. Don't. Don't!" she begged breathlessly, never taking her eyes off the instrument. The girl's mind tried to spin into action as she lay helplessly. All she could do was come up with an impotent request. "What do you want from me?"

Colonel Burwell said nothing as he moved himself off her body yet continued to hold her arms down. Melanie's eyes followed the knife as his hand moved down to between her legs. He used the flat end of the sheathed instrument like and extension of his hand to push her skirt up to her hips. Lying flatly on the bed but with her head lifted, the girl groaned with fear as she saw the knife disappear between her legs and under the bunched up skirt.

She closed her eyes again and drew in a breath, trying to prepare her body for some kind of brutal defilement. An instant later she bellowed loudly as Burwell shoved the hilt of the knife up into her. He began moving the dagger's hard handle in and out of her wetness, with Melanie crying as he did. The object seemed to scrape her delicate insides there, as she could feel the curved finger grooves of the handle. Melanie sobbed aloud at this latest humiliation and the discomfort it caused her. "Please, stop!," she cried. "Oh God I'm begging you. Is that what you want—for me to plead; to scream?"

As the man kept on forcing the instrument of torture in and out, Melanie suddenly felt nauseous. She turned her head to the side wanting to vomit, but due to lack of food throughout the preceding week, she could only force a dry heave.

After another moment of this torture the man finally withdrew it from her leaving her insides feeling raw. Even though the girl felt tender, she sighed as the knife was removed, relieved that the horrid violation was over. Though it had ended, Burwell wasn't quite through with the young woman yet.

He slipped the knife back into its boot holster patiently then brought his hand up to his breeches. The commander pushed them down slightly to reveal his awaiting erection.

As he moved himself back over her body, the colonial commander positioned himself between her legs. He guided himself to her opening, still slick with her fluids, then reached up above her body, using both hands now to pin her bound wrists to the mattress.

"_Oh God, not again," Melanie thought inside, her mind and soul crying inwardly_ as well as her tears showing outwardly. The girl prepared herself for this next invasion, clamping her eyes shut and praying to miraculously become numb somehow, so as not to feel it.

Colonel Burwell rammed his hardness into the girl with a ferocious lob, making her wail aloud, sure the cry could be heard outside the tent. Miss Prescott closed her eyes and turned her head to the side as the officer plumbed away at her. Tears may have managed to roll from her eyes and down her cheeks, but she bore the indignity as stoically as she could, willing herself not to sob aloud or beg for cessation, staying impressively quiet.

The officer heaved himself in and out of her body faster now, grunting all the while. Melanie was thankful that he was too busy moving himself toward his completion to taunt her anymore. The girl could sense that he was almost finished, feeling his body tense on hers and hearing his rate of breathing change.

After another moment of this, Burwell came, emitting a satisfied groan as he did. And Melanie felt the tension drain out of her body, comforted that he was finished, and trying to hide a sigh of relief from herself. Inside, she hoped that the colonials were finally through mistreating her.

She lay there quietly as Colonel Burwell withdrew his spent manhood from her body. The young woman remained silent, thinking that she was ready now for them to send her to the prison camp. She contemplated another moment as her attacker was making himself ready to receive visitors again, that if she felt better, there may even be a chance for her to escape as they transported her to the detention area.

After a few moments, Burwell was done up again in uniform, everything tucked in, straightened and neat as it should be. This signaled to Miss Prescott that he was through assaulting her for at least a little while—forever she hoped. She brought her bound hands down from above her head and pushed her skirt down. The girl pushed her sore body slowly up into a sitting position.

The colonial commander saw this and moved toward the cot. He sat down on the edge of it, forcing the young woman to quickly inch away from him as much as the narrow bed would allow. Burwell moved his face dangerously close to hers then moved his lips to her ear, as if imparting a secret. "Give Major Bordon my regards and tell him it was a pleasure," he ridiculed in a whisper.

Melanie did not dignify his gibe with a comment. Instead she kept silent, trying to find some dignity, yet too weary to try to find words to counter with. The man stood up and left her there on the cot. As he took two steps away, he stopped in his tracks then turned back to her.

"You know, I think I'll send word through the local intelligence network that you seduced me. I won't add the phrase 'in an attempt to win her freedom.' It should create quite a lot of anguish for Brutal Bordon when he hears the information, leaving it open for his own speculation. I know he can sometimes be quite hard on women. He'll probably punish you for it—if he ever sees you again!"

The poor girl's heart sank at this commander's cruel words. She felt defeated, bested and mistreated by her own neighbors and countrymen. Her eyes followed the colonel as he walked away from her.

He called from the next canvas room, "You may have the cot tonight. And don't bother trying to do anything to me in the night or crawling away in some half cocked escape attempt. I am posting a guard within the tent, and they are picketed around the exterior of it." With that he stepped out of the tent.

From the bed, Melanie could hear Colonel Burwell talking with someone, but the voices were muffled so she could not make out what was being said. After a moment of trying to listen, she deemed it of no use and sank back down on the cot. The girl curled into a fetal position and began to cry, her hopes dashed of ever seeing her beloved Alex again.

Some time later, Miss Prescott wasn't sure how long, she heard the clamor outside the canvas walls quiet down as the camp settled in for the night. She knew not what time it was but could only imagine it was after midnight. The girl could not sleep, laying in the cot trembling and wanting to stay awake in case the colonel decided to return for another round of abuse. The young woman breathed a sigh of relief when she heard Colonel Burwell finally sink into another cot across the tent somewhere in another room.

Though Melanie's tears had stopped hours ago, she never fell asleep. The poor girl turned from side to side on the uncomfortable camp bed, her body sore and battered from over a week of physical aggression from her captors. Her soul ached from the mental and emotional blitz of Burwell's insults. The colonials, from the lowliest militia man to the top uniformed commanding officer, had successfully beaten Miss Prescott down, wounding her body and breaking her spirit.


	33. Chapter 33 Deliverance

_Author's note for this chapter: Please bear with me (or with the writing that is)—there is a Hessian that appears in this chapter with a heavy German accent, so I have written the lines said in that accent. So you'll see misspellings and words that may make no sense. Try speaking the lines aloud as you read them and hopefully you'll hear the accent coming out._

Chapter 33 Deliverance

Little did Miss Prescott know, but the rumor mill had begun to spin wildly even while she was still being assaulted by Colonel Burwell. The young and green privates stationed as guards outside of the commander's tent had not quite learned the art of discretion. Those men heard Melanie cry out during her unwilling orgasm. They immediately snickered and commented to each other, then told dozens of others as the duty shifts changed during the mid assault.

One of the privates told the sentry taking his place, "Listen to that! The colonel is with Brutal Bordon's whore, and she's living up to her name!"

Unfortunately the sentries had mistaken her continued wails for mercy and bellows of pain and sorrow as cries of pleasure. The word spread like wildfire across the camp that "the pacifist's daughter was showing old Harry Burwell a good time", even before the incident was finished.

Burwell's aide-de-camp Zeller's tent was next to his commander's. He, too, had heard the cries of passion.

When the colonel emerged after attacking Melanie, he immediately sought out his adjutant. He quickly found Captain Zeller in the mess tent sitting with Sergeants Cline and Kinney. Cline and his men, some seated nearby, were having a late supper after coming in from patrol. Kinney was conferring with Cline, as his unit was leaving for patrol. Some of the departing men milled about, as well, waiting for Sergeant Kinney to finish up.

Commander Burwell sat down with these men and was brought an Ale. He listened for a moment to the men finishing up. When there was a lull in the conversation, his adjutant took to the opportunity to question his superior.

"Did you get much information out of Miss Prescott," asked Zeller.

"No," the officer answered flatly. "It turned into a pathetic bargaining session." The officer embellished the truth, thus continuing the forward motion of gossip.

"It's shameful what some women will do to obtain their freedom," Zeller commented.

The Sergeants and their men nearby listened intently, their interest piqued by the fact that he spoke of Hayden Prescott's daughter. The indecency of the talk further stimulated the interest.

"No. No freedom for her," Harry Burwell stated. "I deemed her fairly quickly to be a turncoat. I don't bargain with traitors."

The commanding officer took a sip of his spirits, then continued conversing. "She continued making advances even after I told her she would not be freed," he lied.

"She had no reserve for decency," Cline questioned innocently.

"No. I think she's become a loose, amoral strumpet. After all, what can be expected from a woman who shares a married Redcoat officer's bed!?"

Kinney entered the conversation. "You're right. She _is_ Brutal Bordon's mistress."

"Pity," Burwell added. "I knew her family. They were good upstanding Christian citizens. They'd be ashamed of her were they still alive."

"She's probably worked her way through all the British commanders," Cline smirked.

"And no doubt she will work her way through our officers if we keep her here much longer," sneered Burwell.

The whole group broke out in a raucous round of laughter. Burwell spoke again when the snickering abated. "This war wears men down. However, it _does _have its moments of pleasantness." The men shared yet another laugh over this comment.

As the men in the mess tent went on speculating about Miss Prescott's supposed choices of bed partners and further slandering her character, Colonel Harry Burwell smiled inwardly. He knew he had just successfully planted a fertile seed of gossip that would grow rapidly and continue to be cultivated. He was quite satisfied at knowing the word of her "seduction" would go into the camp with Sergeant Cline's returning patrol, and would travel outwardly across the countryside with officer Kinney's departing patrol. After all, people loved to gossip—especially of fallen women.

A satisfied Burwell rose to excuse himself. "I am sorry to cut the honor of your presence short but I need to confer with young Zeller." With that, he left the mess tent accompanied by his adjutant.

They strolled the short distance toward the subordinate's tent. After entering it, he gave instructions to Zeller in a low voice. "Captain, make sure that word of the incident in my tent this evening is leaked to the intelligence channels."

"Yes sir," Zeller dutifully answered. The aide-de-camp understood the high value of propaganda in wartime.

Burwell went on. "Make it known that Miss Prescott is a seductress of highest skill. Make certain that word of this gets to Major Bordon and all the other Redcoat officers. That should sufficiently harass them. They won't trust her at all."

***************************

Melanie Prescott had given into exhaustion, finally falling asleep after anxious moments awake most of the night. The girl couldn't get to sleep, worried that Colonel Burwell might exact more of himself on the helpless woman.

It felt as if she'd only been asleep for a few moments when she was roused awake by the aide-de-camp Captain Zeller. The young woman quickly cleared the sleep from her head, pushing her tired body up to a sitting position. She was leery now of all the colonials and decided she'd best be on her guard around them.

"Miss Prescott, you're leaving momentarily," informed the adjutant. "A private will be in to escort you out."

The officer checked her bonds, making sure they were still secure then left her alone in the tent. As she watched him leave, her mind wandered again, unsure of what was in store for her.

After another moment passed, a uniformed private appeared as promised and guided her out of Burwell's tent. Once outside, the private was stopped and given a parcel and piece of paper. He held Melanie's arm securely while studying the small package and paper.

As she stood waiting, the girl stole sideways looks to try and ascertain her situation. She noticed two covered wagons and a buckboard parked just yards ahead. With another glance, she noticed familiar faces that she had seen in the camp and during her kidnapping and knew them to be Colonel Martin's militia. She estimated that there must have been about thirty or so militiamen with horses milling about near the wagons.

A moment later the private was hustling her along again toward the awaiting wagons. Again the girl looked nonchalantly at the men and noticed Colonel Martin nearby, perusing a map. He stood conferring with a couple of men, and she noticed the young blond haired man that had kidnapped her was among them. She had come to find out after being in camp a few days that this man was Corporal Gabriel Martin, Benjamin's son. As she walked past the buckboard, she noticed that it was loaded with supplies. While passing one of the canvassed wagons, she noticed three men waiting in it who were bound. She discerned quickly that they were prisoners.

Then they reached the second of the covered wagons. The girl was helped up into it and seated amongst some crates and bundles in the wagon. Another woman, bound as well, was already in the wagon, looking bored. She shifted as Melanie crawled in amidst the supplies, barely enough room for two prisoners among all the boxes and sacks.

Melanie looked out the back of the wagon in time to catch Martin folding the map and making hand gestures to his men. The girl surmised that Benjamin's militia had been assigned the task of escorting this small supply and transport convoy. She saw the men mounting their horses and taking up strategic positions interspersed amongst the three vehicles.

She soon heard Martin give the order to move out and the carriage lurched along with a jerk. The girl noticed that the militia man walking directly behind their wagon had his pistol out and ready to use, watching the ladies with astute eyes. Melanie did not have the strength to try an escape, but she was always watching out for possibilities.

Miss Prescott kept a watch out the back of the wagon, sighing in relief as she watched the colonial camp become distant, then disappear. She did not speak to the other prisoner, who had been equally as silent. Melanie tried to arrange her body a little better amongst the cramped wagon as she heard the woman muttering in foreign language, most likely cursing the situation. The girl recognized that the other lady was speaking German.

Curious to see if the other prisoner knew anymore about their situation then she did, Melanie coaxed the woman, in her best broken German, to talk to her.

"Nein sprechen deutsche," Miss Prescott said, hoping the woman understood. This got the other prisoner's attention for she looked strangely at the girl.

"Nein sprechen deutsche," Melanie repeated. "Um….uh….sprechen sie Englisch?"

"Ja," the woman answered.

"Mein deutsche nicht gut," Miss Prescott struggled with the words.

The German woman nodded with a smile. "Ja…I vill speak English."

"Danke," Melanie replied with a smile. "Thank you."

After an awkward silence, she carried on. "I'm Melanie Prescott." She pointed to herself. "I'm a colonial."

"Ah, yes," the German girl replied. "I am Sophie Kestler."

"Are you with the Hessians," asked Miss Prescott.

The Kestler woman hesitated, not sure if she should answer or not. Melanie saw her apprehension, and while not wanting to divulge too much about her own situation, she wanted the other prisoner to ease and tell her anything she knew.

"It's alright. I'm a Loyalist," Melanie lied, holding up her bound wrists. "I was caught with the British; the Redcoats." Knowing that the redcoats and Hessians were allied in this struggle was a fact she hoped to use to her advantage.

"Ja, I vas vith de Hessians," Sophie answered, her accent thick, but able to be understood. "De colonials dink I am a spy."

"Yes, me too," Melanie chuckled. "I was caught with a Redcoat officer." The girl decided to keep some of the details vague, or as falsehoods, not knowing this woman.

"I vas captured ven I vas …….how you say…gone from de soldiers."

Knowing she struggled with the English word, Melanie volunteered, " You were separated from the men? Lost from your camp?"

"Ja! I became separated during a battle," Miss Kestler replied. "De militia men picked me up and put me in deir jail."

Melanie surmised that the Hessians Sophie was with were ambushed in camp or on the road. The young German woman must have gotten separated or left behind in the skirmish.

After a moment of silence passed in which the two women sized each other's situation up, Melanie spoke again. "Do you know what they are going to do with us? Where they are taking us?"

"I dink dey are taking us to deir prison."

Melanie cringed for this was what she was afraid of. The girl wondered where the prison camp was, and if Alexander's intelligence network may know of it. Maybe there would be a rescue from the camp if the young woman could get word out to the redcoats.

Miss Prescott smiled at the woman, wanting to end the pleasantries and try to look for any familiar landmarks out the back of the wagon. "Well, it seems we are in trouble simply because of the men we keep company with."

"Ja! Men! Soldiers!," Sophie spat with obvious contempt. "Vere are dey ven you need dem de most?!"

**********************

The two female prisoners continued to banter off and on in the back of the wagon as it rolled along for a couple of hours. It had started to rain steadily and they were glad to be under cover of the canvas instead of riding a horse in the elements as were their guards. Sophie and Melanie had noticed holes in the material on both sides of the wagon. They were able to look out through these rips and watch the landscape pass by.

Soon the steady swaying of the wagon combined with the rain on the canvas lulled an exhausted Melanie to sleep. She had stretched out as best she could and pillowed her head upon her bound arms laid upon a crate.

Miss Kestler woke Melanie a couple of hours later when the convoy stopped for a short rest and food. The two prisoners were given bread and some milk, and were thankful to get it. They weren't allowed out of the wagon except for a quick break to relieve nature. Soon, the train was on its way again.

The two women kept each other entertained during the afternoon leg of the journey taking turns telling of funny things that happened in their youths. Then Melanie took quick lessons in German, asking Sophie how to say certain phrases in the language. Miss Prescott didn't know if she would retain the lessons, but it was another way to pass the boring time riding.

Finally, after hours of riding the train stopped for the night. The militiamen seemed extra vigilant during this time, watching all the prisoners closely for any escape attempts. They were only let out of the wagons for short periods at a time before and after supper in order to stretch their legs and take care of nature's urges.

After a meager dinner, the ladies bedded down for the night in the wagon as best they could. The temporary camp built around the wagons seemed to quiet quickly, all desiring rest soon after the long day's journey.

Melanie and Miss Kestler were roused awake early the next morning by the sound of militia men disbanding tents and packing supplies. A quick breakfast of bread was served and the convoy was soon on the road again.

By mid morning, the sun was out and warm—no sign of the rain that had soaked the group the day before. As Melanie and Sophie watched out the back of the wagon, it came to a sudden stop. Both young ladies immediately began to look out the holes in the canvas at the surrounding countryside.

On Miss Prescott's side, she caught sight of Benjamin Martin outside their wagon still on his horse. He was conferring with a couple of men. Though speaking in low voices, Melanie was able to hear part of their conversation.

"The scout spotted a small detachment of Redcoats on this road," he said in a low voice. "They should meet us head on before too long. A couple of covered wagons and a few men. We shouldn't have a problem with them—sounds like we have at least twice the number."

As he turned his back to the canvas, his words became muffled and Melanie missed part of the conference. She strained to hear more, maybe gleaning something that would help her get away, though still quite hobbled by her foot lashings.

"Let's move these wagons over into the woods there," Martin instructed in a subdued voice, pointing toward a thick patch of trees. "Not too far in so that we can move quickly again, just enough to hide them from the road. Have your men take up positions until I signal. Just get the Redcoat wagons and their weapons and let the soldiers run. They're harmless without their guns and knives."

Melanie continued to watch out the hole in the canvas and listen intently to whatever she could overhear. She noted that Martin did not seem agitated, but that he acted rather calm about the approaching British.

"The Redcoats use this road quite frequently, so let's be quick about our business and get this done as fast as possible in case there are more in the area. The sooner we turn off this road and get on another path, the safer we'll be." Martin was done giving directions for the small group quickly dispersed. Soon the wagon jolted forward and moved into the glade.

The two women noticed as they peered out the canvas holes that they were now hidden in the woods, but yet still close enough to have a partial view of the main road they were just on.

Melanie had relayed quietly to Miss Kestler what had been said, and both women had an unspoken glimmer of hope, though not knowing what to expect, but happy that the British were nearby.

Miss Prescott and Miss Kestler sat quietly peering through the ragged tears of the canvas, eager to see what transpired. They could not see much from the wagon's hidden vantage point in the trees, the foliage obscuring some of the view. The two prisoners could only partially make out Colonel Martin, now standing alone in the roadway.

In a moment, they heard marching of what they guessed was only a few men. The two women also observed the sound of a wagon, maybe two. The anxious girls wished they could see more.

Before the sound of the approaching wagons and marching had stopped, Melanie was already sizing up the situation around her. She noticed that a guard had been left just outside the back of their wagon, and the driver was still seated in front. The young woman thought that if the sentry were to become distracted, she could flee the wagon. Her poor feet were still painful, but she would bear the pain for a few yards if it meant getting back to British custody.

Finally the wagons and the marching stopped, pulling Miss Prescott's attention back to the action out on the main road. She and Sophie strained to see what was going on while equally as focused on listening to the sounds of the confrontation.

"This road is closed," the women heard Martin announce with authoritative calm, "These wagons now belong to the continental army."

Melanie shifted to another hole in the fabric, trying to see more of what was going on. She could through the trees, a small group of uniformed Redcoat infantry, she guessed. The girl thought the officer in front of the small group of British looked young. Through the tree branches, she caught the familiar flash of a polished pistol, gleaming in the sun. It looked as if it was held high, ready for a strike.

"Ready arms!," the female captives heard a deep voice command in a shout.

They then heard a loud whistle, and rustling in the grass and trees all around. Miss Prescott could see a few more of Martin's men with him in the roadway. As she shifted to yet another hole in the canvas, she was surprised to see that there were more Redcoats than she'd originally thought.

The two women then heard metal scraping and guns cocking as the heard the same young Redcoat from before command, "By twos!"

Melanie glanced back toward the rear of the wagon and noticed that the guard assigned to watch them was still at his post, but very preoccupied with what was going on with his fellow militiamen. He looked poised to join in the fray. Miss Prescott concluded that this was not going to end without a fight.

Martin's voice drew her attention back toward the main road. "Sergeant, there's no need for you and your men to die. Leave the wagons and go," the militia colonel offered insistently.

The two young women then clearly heard the angry voice of the British officer countering back. "THIS is the King's highway and I advise you and your men to make way," he warned without flinching. Immediately after that, the girls heard material rustling and what sounded like more feet skittering along the dirt. From their vantage point they could not see that more Redcoats, hidden in the two covered wagons, jumped out of the vehicles and took up positions.

In an instant of quiet tension, in which everyone faced off against one another, Melanie heard distantly, the stern command of a male voice. "Charge!"

Almost immediately, Sophie and Miss Prescott heard Martin shout in a panicked voice, "Fire. Retreat!"

With that, all Hell broke loose. The noise of men's shouts and gunfire was deafening. Both women instinctively ducked down in the wagon, weary of any stray bullets that might make their way through the canvas covering.

As Melanie huddled on the floor of the wagon, she heard thundering hoof beats, thinking it sounded like dozens of horses. The young woman had heard that unmistakable sound frequently before. She became giddy when she realized that a cavalry was now involved. The girl hoped it was Redcoat horsemen.

After another moment, Miss Prescott saw that their wagon guard had disappeared. She motioned this to her German companion. Both women immediately took advantage of this and scrambled to the back of the wagon.

As they did, the wagon lurched forward suddenly knocking both women to the bottom of the vehicle again. The carriage traveled forward quickly, leaving the women reaching to grab the sides of it, needing something to hang on to. As they looked to the front of the wagon, they saw the driver slumped forward, then fall from the wagon. The women's next thought was to jump into the driver's seat and grab the reigns.

Before they could, the wagon crashed into a large tree, knocking both women backwards again. Almost as quickly as the collision, the wagon tipped over fast, landing on its side. The overturning tossed Melanie out the back of the thing. She landed hard in the dirt on her left side, leaving her stunned. Though she felt pain up and down her side, she managed to push herself up to sitting. It was only then that she realized the vehicle had overturned.

Melanie regained her composure quickly and looked for Miss Kestler. She saw the German girl still in the wagon, under some crates. Miss Prescott reached into the wagon and moved the broken crates, took Sophie's hand and pulled her out. Melanie was relieved when she could see her companion stand and move with no serious injuries.

The two female captives quickly took hands and ran from the woods while the fight was going on. Then they hugged each other, realizing they had to split up.

"Gut reise!" Melanie called, hoping these were the correct German words she learned yesterday.

"Viel Gluck!" Sophie shouted back to her new friend.

Miss Prescott half ran, half hobbled with a body full of pain toward the main road, where she found some brush to hide in. From there, she watched the fracas for a minute, partly in disbelief that she was free, partly to take a moment' s respite from the pain. From her hiding place, she saw her former captors, the militia men, vastly outnumbered by the British. The girl sighed when she saw dozens of the familiar red British infantry jackets. Then tears of relief welled in her eyes when the girl recognized the red and green jackets and black breeches of Tarleton and Tavington's legions.

The girl moved with no fear from the bushes to a small grove of trees which was closer to the fighting. She looked frantically for any familiar dragoon faces. As she looked, her hand went under her skirt and ripped her petticoat. Though dingy now from some ten days or so of being dragged about, it was white and would do. All she needed was to draw attention to herself.

Melanie looked through the dust and smoke from the weapons, trying to spot someone she knew. The girl especially looked for Alexander. She couldn't just wander out into the middle of the fight for she'd get hurt. The young woman just needed to see someone and get their attention.

After a moment, she spotted Colonel Banastre Tarleton fighting from his horse. He had just swung his sword, cutting down some rebel when she decided to make a run for it. The girl hobbled out from the bush, swinging her makeshift white flag wildly, and calling his name, although she doubted he could hear her.

The officer instantly caught sight of her, cocking his head curiously at a woman running toward him surrendering, not recognizing her. Always curious and happy to see women, he rode his horse out of the fight and toward the woman. As he got closer, he realized that the girl was Miss Melanie Prescott. His eyes rounded and mouth dropped open, very surprised to see her in the middle of a skirmish.

Melanie breathed a sigh of relief, realizing he knew it was her. She smiled up at him as he looked down from his horse, offering his hand to her. The girl took his hand, and climbed up with his help as best as she could. Once seated behind him, she held on to his waist. With his characteristic wit, he shouted over the din back to her, "You never know who you're going to meet in a battle." The girl grinned and laid her head against the back of his shoulders, resting secure and relieved.

She closed her eyes as the man rode to a safe place away from the battle. He spied Lieutenant Kidwell, Sergeant Scott and a couple of privates. The commander handed the girl off to the men with instructions to get her to safety. While the skirmish raged on, the decision was quickly made that Lieutenant Kidwell and the two privates would slip out of the fight now and rush the girl back to the fort. Since all the high ranking officers were fighting, should they all fall in battle, then Lieutenant Kidwell, the fourth officer in line after Tavington, then Bordon, and Wentworth, would be ready to take the helm and already had the grooming for it.

*********************************

Melanie had fallen asleep, overtaken completely by exhaustion, leaning back on young Lieutenant Kidwell as she rode in front of him upon his horse. He woke her up just before they rode through the gates of Fort Carolina.

"You're home," the young officer said softly.

Melanie smiled, saying nothing as tears welled again in her eyes. She was relieved to ride through its gates.

Word spread quickly that the girl was home causing the household, and fort for that matter, to go into a frenzy. Miss Prescott was carried upstairs to Bordon's room where she relaxed on the bed. A doctor was brought in to check her over and begin the task of binding her many wounds. General O'Hara visited briefly, informing her that she would be debriefed by he and Major Bordon as quickly as he returned.

Miss Bridget Kilpatrick came into the room for a happy reunion with her friend. She would then stay with the weary young woman for the next three hours or so, when the dragoons, with prisoners in tow, arrived back at the fort.

**************************

"The men are here," Bridget said from her place at the window to where Melanie sat across the room.

Miss Prescott, who had actually managed to calm down a bit in just the last hour due to Miss Kilpatrick's presence, began inexplicably trembling. She wanted to get up and join her friend at the window, wishing to see her beloved Alex, but seemed frozen to her chair.

Outside, Major Bordon quickly dismounted, racing into the main house, wanting to find Melanie. He had been informed hours earlier on the battlefield that she had been rescued. Captain Wentworth generously offered to take Alexander's job of processing the newly captured prisoners so that his commander could be at his mistress' side immediately.

Once on the second floor, Bordon burst into his own room where he found Melanie and the Irish servant nearby. Alex moved across the floor to where his lover sat to hug her, but she brushed him off. He pulled back from her, looking puzzled. Though this disturbed him, he did not take it personally for in his experience from working with prisoners, whether recently captured or rescued, they were sometimes distant or standoffish initially, often trying to reconcile in their minds the traumatic ordeal they'd just been through.

"Don't," Melanie said shakily. "I'm sorry, Alex. I'm just….I'm sore all over."

He accepted her apology with a silent but understanding bob of his head.

"I'll leave you two alone," Bridget announced, excusing herself. She disappeared quickly through the door.

Alex, assuming that Melanie would be debriefed by himself and General O'Hara later, desired her to open up to him in private about what happened. He needed to hear it directly from her, without the formality of an interview with the officers.

The major knelt before her, looking her over. She looked horrible to him, and assumed quickly and correctly that she'd been through a terrible time. He took in her torn and stained clothing, and dirt smudged face. The officer looked over the many cuts, bruises, and other assorted injuries about the young woman's body.

Bordon thought that if he could get her to explain about her injuries, that she'd talk indiscriminately to him. "How did you get hurt?"

Melanie pointed to a bruise on her jaw line and the very visible remnants of a black eye. "Um, I was slapped and shoved about," she began slowly, looking downward. "You have a leak in your intelligence here at the fort."

The officer lifted an eyebrow in curiosity, eager to hear about it. From experience, he knew that some information would leak out unintentionally, but not a lot. They should be able to prevent most outflow.

"Apparently the whole countryside knows about us," Melanie informed, apologetically.

Bordon bristled at that revelation. While he would intentionally have some rumors leaked, their relationship, which he had been ordered to keep discrete, was not supposed to be one of the intentional leaks.

"They called me 'British whore' and 'Redcoat slut' as they hit me. They know I'm 'Brutal Bordon's' mistress and they accused me of being a turncoat."

Melanie continued, talking in a measured cadence, still in an apologetic tone. "The…uh…Colonial regulars and militia don't have much use or like for each other. They used me as an excuse to fight. I was tangled in the middle of one of their brawls," Miss Prescott indicated as she pointed to her black eye and jaw. "A hard square hit knocked me right out of the fray, thankfully."

Alexander then pointed silently to the scrapes on her arms and legs, visible through her torn and tattered skirt.

"I tried to escape," she answered. "Everyone was distracted during that fight, so I fled. I made it out onto the main road. A French officer took me down, scraping him and myself up in the process. He then brought me back to the camp."

"And then, my feet." At that point in the conversation, Miss Prescott raised her legs, resting her freshly wrapped feet on Alex's thighs. He could tell the dressings were new and began to unwind one of them. Melanie winced aloud as he did, which caused him to be more gingerly in the task. Once unwrapped, he perused the soul of her foot to reveal freshly opened tears coupled with bruising and swelling.

"That was my punishment for escaping," Melanie said in a dejected voice.

"They flogged you?" asked Alex as he rewrapped her foot carefully. He was all too familiar with foot whipping as it was a punishment some British officers favored to dole out to the insolent.

"Yes. With a dressage whip that cut like a hot metal wire," the girl replied. "They hobbled me. I only began walking days ago."

After an awkward silence, the girl still feeling uncomfortable, Melanie spoke again. She used her right hand to making a sweeping motion indicating her left side. Her left ankle and wrist were both tightly bound. "This happened hours earlier during the battle. We were waiting in a wagon hidden off the road. Our driver was killed. The horses reared and ran and the wagon crashed into a tree. It flipped over and tossed me out the back clear. I landed hard on the ground on this side. The surgeon says there are not any broken bones, just severely sprained."

Miss Prescott stopped talking as she drew into herself with a shiver. She crossed her arms in front of herself as if cold, looking down at the floor.

Bordon let her have her moment's reprieve as he mulled the words of her ordeal over in his head. He could sense that Melanie hadn't told him something. The officer wanted her to bring up whatever she might be leaving out, but after another moment of silence, he realized he would have to prompt her to disclose the omitted happenings.

"Is that it?" he asked calmly.

Melanie shook her head 'yes', remaining silent. She could not make eye contact with him. The body language of her still being drawn into herself implied some insecurity to him.

"There's something you're not telling me," Alex said directly. "What else happened?"

She was silent again, eyes still cast downward. The girl glanced quickly and nervously up at Bordon as if stealing a look at him. The instant he caught her and their eyes locked, she shifted them down to the floor again hurriedly.

Alexander, standing again, put his fingers under his chin, raising her head to look him in the face. Melanie winced as he did, her jaw still sore from being slugged by a rebel fist.

"Tell me," he insisted in that deep authoritative voice that sent shivers through the girl.

Melanie closed her eyes and swallowed hard. "I heard about the incident in Charles Towne with you and your men….and that widow woman. I know all about it now. I heard how she wouldn't cooperate and that you and the other officers had your way with her."

Alex said nothing, neither wanting to confirm or deny anything. He let the girl go on revealing things.

"That rebel woman that you all forced yourselves on," she continued in a shaky voice, "that widow is a Burwell. She is Colonel Harry Burwell's sister."

Major Bordon was taken aback by this, but did not show it. He kept a stone like façade. He remembered at the time of the incident that his source in Charles Towne could only tell him that the widow woman had a close relative that was a high ranking officer in the Continentals. Only her first and last name were known—not her maiden.

"Colonel Martin of the militia told me that Burwell ordered my kidnapping," she said. "Two nights ago, I was taken to Commander Burwell's tent. He wanted to meet with me."

She stopped short, not wishing to go on. The young woman started making up excuses, not wanting to disclose any further details.

"Um….I'm so tired, Alex," she lied hesitantly, "I'd like to lie back down—"

"Melanie," he said in an irritated tone, "_what _happened?"

The girl closed her eyes again in dread, not wanting to tell her lover the truth. The young woman rubbed her forehead with her hand, which then dropped to cover her mouth. She was trying to stay stoic and not dissolve into tears. Melanie wished she could distance herself somehow from her own emotions and just remember things with no feeling at all.

The young woman closed her eyes, not wanting to look Alex in the face. She spoke in a low, trembling voice. "I was raped."

Bordon closed his eyes and drew in a sharp breath when she revealed it. The puzzle pieces fit together now: she'd been taken, then assaulted in revenge for the incident with Burwell's sister. Alex rubbed his own head with his hand and heaved a heavy sigh. He felt bad immediately that Melanie had suffered for something the Dragoons had done.

"By who," he asked. He knew, but Alexander needed confirmation; he had to hear her say it.

"Colonel Burwell," replied the girl in a sad and quivering voice. "Three times. Twice with himself."

Melanie looked up to see a stunned look on Bordon's face. This caused her to crack into tears.

"And the third time?!" Alex questioned in a demanding tone.

"With…..with his…..knife handle," the girl stammered.

Major Bordon's blood boiled instantly. He thought it horrible that Burwell used Melanie for his revenge; Alex would rather the man have come after the Dragoons. He said nothing more to his lover and stormed out of the room.

It took a moment for Melanie, wrapped in her own sorrow and shame, to realize that Alexander had left the room. She knew him too well and knew where he was bound for. The girl jumped from her seat and raced into the hallway despite her painful injuries. She leaned over the banister and saw Bordon stomping across the large, open gathering room toward the door.

"Colonel Tavington! Colonel Tarleton!," she shouted, "General O'Hara! Please stop Alex! He's going to take on the whole rebel army by himself! Please, please stop him! Don't let him go! Don't let him do it!"

The two legion commanders and their superior were milling by the doorway discussing the day's events when Miss Prescott called to them, sounding alarmed. They saw a determined Major Bordon headed their direction, so they barred the door.

"What's the problem, Alex old boy?" Tarleton questioned, trying to lighten the mood.

"Where are you going, Bordon?" asked Tavington.

"To kill Colonel Burwell," answered Alex in a threatening manner.

"Why would you want to do that," William asked, trying to keep things under control, knowing something terrible must have happened. He did his best to diffuse his aide-de-camp's sometimes brutal temper.

"He raped her," Bordon answered his superiors through clenched teeth. "He did it to get revenge. That woman in Charles Towne that we were….rough with. That is his sister."

"Be that as it may," Colonel Tavington said, "I need you too much right now to let you go murder a colonial officer—as much as I'd like you to do it."

"Please, sir," Alex pleaded, still trying to push himself through the men blocking the door, "at least let me challenge him to a duel."

"Bordon, listen," William began trying to calm his adjutant, "I can only imagine how you must feel and it is plain that you are furious. But I can't spare you at the moment, and besides, Miss Prescott needs you here with her now."

Alexander was still fuming, and William still trying to soothe the man. "Bordon, if you see him on the battlefield, I will personally clear a path for you to get to him. Then you may do whatever you want to the man and I'll look the other way."

Colonel Tavington continued. "If we capture him, which we will make one of our priorities, then you may castrate or kill the man right then and there with no resistance from me, you have my word."

"Go back upstairs to Miss Prescott," ordered General O'Hara firmly, yet out of compassion for the couple. "We will expect the two of you to join us in thirty minutes for interrogation of the incident."

Bordon bobbed his head quickly, then headed back upstairs. There again, he found a sublime Melanie, quiet and withdrawn, staring sadly at the floor. He knelt down in front of her, feeling awkward and horrible that another man had assaulted her; that he couldn't protect her from it.

Alex took her hand and looked at her, sadness in his eyes. "I'm so sorry I couldn't protect you when you needed it. I'm even more sorry, and I regret that you had to pay the price for our actions."

Melanie said nothing for a moment then squeezed his hand as she broke down in tears.  
"I thought I'd never see you again," she sobbed hard. "I thought I'd never see you."

The officer drew her body to his where the two embraced after so many days apart. Melanie wept hard against his shoulder, letting out the sorrow and shame of the last few days, finally safe and secure in the comfort of Alexander's arms.

****************************

A few days had passed since Miss Prescott was returned safely to Fort Carolina. In that time, Alexander Bordon had been patient with his lover, not making any advances for intercourse toward her, knowing her situation had been horrid. However, his patience and resolve to give Melanie her space were wearing down, and he fought his lust hard.

This particular night, a few nights since the girl came home, Alex sat up wide awake at 2:30am. The major got up, leaving a sleeping Melanie alone in his bed. He paced the floor for a few minutes, then looked out the window. The officer soon climbed back into bed and willed himself to go back to sleep, but he could not. He tossed and turned a few times, then lay on his back and stared up at the ceiling.

After thirty minutes or so of this restlessness, he rolled over to face Miss Prescott. The major ran his hand softly up and down her body, then succumbed to lust. Alex began kissing and nuzzling the young woman's neck softly as his hand caressed the body he'd missed so much.

The girl roused after a moment of this, keeping her eyes closed as she relaxed in the sensations she had not felt in so many days. After a minute of his tender kisses and feathery touches, Miss Prescott opened her eyes.

"I'm sorry," Major Bordon whispered, his breath on her ear, "I couldn't sleep anymore."

"Obviously," Melanie murmured back, feeling his arousal against her thigh. She slipped her arms around his body, then allowed him to take her in his. She returned his kisses slowly and gently.

"We don't have to if you're not ready," Alex spoke softly against her lips. The officer hoped silently that she _was_ ready to receive him.

"It's alright," his lover assured, "I am ready." With that, she paused to kiss him ardently, glad to taste his tongue in her mouth again.

She pulled gently out of the kiss and looked up at him. "I want you now, Alex."

The overjoyed and relieved major kissed her hard as he ran his hand up her leg, pushing her night gown up. He thrust a finger inside her, pleased to find her already wet.

"Oh….ah..," she gasped as his finger sank into her. "Oh," she breathed again, clearly a sigh signifying great relief for the girl.

Bordon kissed her jaw and her ear, then trailed wet kisses down her neck. "I'm going to have you all over this bed," he said lustily against her neck.

With that, the officer and his lady went about getting to know each other again properly.

*************************

In the dark, early morning hours in Bordon's room, the time seemed to fly by. The couple, still reacquainting themselves with each other, had not realized that some ninety odd minutes had passed. The two did not stifle their throes of passion during their long awaited coupling.

Melanie was on her knees at the end of the bed with Alex behind her. She propped herself up on the large footboard at the bed's end, holding on to it with whitened knuckles as the officer plowed himself hard in and out of her from behind.

"Oh, Alex,…oh my God, you feel so good," Melanie cried breathlessly. She reveled in her officer's attention, certainly making good on his promise to 'have her all over the bed', having already had the girl in several positions in different directions and spots on top of the thing.

The young woman tempted Bordon's resistance to completion when she moved backwards against him, meeting each of his thrusts with her own. The view of her body from behind, her soft bottom rocking against his, and his hands on her shapely hips nearly drove him insane.

"AH….MELANIE!...", Alexander called out in passion, "Oh God…mmm...I've missed you so!"

Meanwhile in one of the rooms adjoining Major Bordon's, the Green Dragoons' third officer tried to get back to sleep but was unsuccessful. The boisterous euphoria of Captain Wentworth's superior officer and his lady had awoken him. After listening to it for what he thought was an eternity, he risked insubordination to let his commander know how raucous their coupling was.

The young officer got out of bed and moved to the wall shared with Bordon's room. He knocked insistently upon it, then shouted somewhat apologetically, "Uh…sir…I can hear the two of you through the wall."

Bordon, trying to concentrate on the matters at hand, shouted back at the young man as he kept on thrusting, not missing a beat. "Then don't listen, Captain!"

Alex hammered into Melanie a few more times then yelled again at Wentworth. "AND _THAT'S _AN ORDER!"

Young Gregory Wentworth said nothing back, opting to crawl in bed, where he pulled a pillow over his head.

During the time that the major and captain exchanged words, Melanie noticed none of it, intent on her own body's motions. She was so absorbed in her own rapture of passion that she wasn't aware of any shouting except for her own lusty cries.

After a little more of pounding himself in and out of her wetness, the major wrapped his arms about the girl's waist and pulled her back from the footboard. He moved backwards up the bed, taking Melanie with him to where his back was against the pillows strewn against the headboard. Repositioning himself to where he was sitting up, leaning back against the pillows, Alex pulled the young woman back down onto his hardness.

"Oh….mmmm," she sighed in ecstasy and relief as she sank back down on his stiffness, blissful to be on his lap and have him back deep inside her. The girl, slick with her own arousal, slid down easily.

"AH….Melanie," he breathed aloud as she did.

The young woman wasted no time resuming her cadence as she sat astride Alexander's lap facing away from him. Bordon sat back for a moment, enjoying letting Melanie take command. As she moved herself up and down his hardness, both moaned aloud the bliss they felt.

The couple's continued joyous reunion of lovemaking was taking a toll on Bordon's other neighbor in the house, Colonel Tarleton. The commander just had a horrid evening of heavy drinking and equally as massive gambling losses. So while Ban was nursing a hangover and the smarting pain of wounded pride, he was also a stallion without a mare. Indeed the popular commander's bed was empty this evening, which only seemed to magnify the riotous throes of passion coming from the next room. But even though he had a headache, he wished he was the one enjoying the amorous attentions of Miss Prescott.

From his bed which abutted the common wall to his subordinate's room, he pounded heavily on it with his fist. "Christ, Bordy! I'm trying to sleep! Either leave something for the imagination or save some for later!"

Bordon, still enjoying his woman heaving herself insistently upon him, yelled back to his superior, not caring a hint about insubordination. Annoyed, he cursed, "Go to Hell, Banastre!"

Tarleton rolled his eyes and sighed, knowing it was hopeless. He slid back down in bed, pulled the covers over his head and hoped their lovemaking would climax soon so that he could get some sleep.

Again, as the officers exchanged insults, Melanie was blissfully unaware of it. She kept the steady rhythm of rocking her body ferociously on her major's lap.

Alexander's left hand caressed her left breast from behind as his right hand held tight to her right hip, nearly bruising her. He was trying to keep her pinned down on his lap, for her exuberant and lusty riding of his member threatened to make her come off his erection completely.

"Oh….Oh…ALEX!..I'M SO CLOSE!.....Oh don't make me stop," she begged breathlessly, her completion near.

"Come for me, darling," he coaxed lustily.

That was all Melanie needed and she was done for. Instantly she moved more furiously upon Alex's lap. He kept firm hold, now bruising the girl, of her hips with both hands desperately trying to prevent himself from popping out of her womanhood at this most crucial point.

In an instant the couple came together, moaning and groaning their passion. After Alex and Melanie untangled their exhausted and spent bodies from one another, they curled up together under the covers, falling to sleep in each other's arms.

---------------------------------------------------------

More author's notes:

"Ja" = Pronounced "yah". German for 'yes.'

"Gute Reise!" = German for "Good journey!"

"Viel Gluck!" = German for "Good luck!"

The other German phrases are easy to figure out.

If you speak fluent German or are German and I have the above wrong, please let me know. I used a "live" source. If it isn't correct, please let me know. Thanks


	34. Chapter 34 A Disconcerting Situation

Chapter 34 A Disconcerting Situation

Life had returned to normal quickly for Melanie Prescott in the many weeks following her homecoming to Fort Carolina. She filled her days helping in the hospital tents, mending soldiers' clothing from seemingly never ending piles, or spending time in girlish silliness with Bridgett. What free time she had was spent embroidering, reading, or attending to her personal correspondence. The young woman spent the nights with Alexander Bordon in his bed or hers affirming over and again their love for each other.

The only thing different this time with her retreat back to normalcy was that Miss Prescott no longer ventured out of the fort. Her kidnapping ordeal had left her petrified. Bridgett could not even coax the frightened woman outside to help pick berries or flowers, something Melanie had loved to do just months earlier. The girl only felt safe within the confines of the garrison.

As for Major Bordon and the rest of the legion in the weeks since Miss Prescott's deliverance, the men had journeyed to Camden and won a great battle there. They had also been busy ferreting out information and capturing prisoners of which occasionally, one of importance emerged.

Mostly, they were consumed with finding Colonel Benjamin Martin of the South Carolina militia. This officer had become a thorn in the side of the British. He and his men were able to move silently and became nearly invisible within the countryside. They had the loyalty of the tightlipped locals, so virtually no information was readily available about the officer and his men.

What made him so dangerous was that he and his band of rebels did not fight rank and file. They hid wherever available and shot by surprise, killing officers first and working down to the enlisted privates last. Martin and his men had been near or in the midst of the dragoons a few times, but either had eluded them, or the redcoats had been forced to let them go by some gentlemanly circumstance or trivial rule of war. All this left Tavington and his legion extremely frustrated.

**********************

Miss Prescott rolled over to look at the light coming through her drawn curtains, hiding her face in the pillow. She had not slept well last night, her head aching and vomiting occasionally. The girl finally fell asleep this morning, now awakening during the lunch hour, not caring that she'd missed the morning and midday meals.

The young woman still felt weak and nauseous, but willed herself to get out of bed and dress. She had been sick sporadically like this for the last few weeks, feeling good some days and awful other days. The Carolina heat of Autumn, which she thought would never dissipate, seemed only to worsen the aches, pains and illness.

She wasn't the only fort resident suffering sickness. Colonel Banastre Tarleton had taken ill earlier in the fall with Malaria, becoming so sick that he nearly died. The legion commander had been bedridden for weeks. On days when Melanie wasn't sick herself, she helped take care of the ailing officer. When he was awake, they often commiserated about the thick Carolina heat and how it served them both no favors.

Tarleton's absence was felt prominently by the cavalry, somewhat hampering them. He was sorely missed for he was a fierce and cunning warrior. Lord General Cornwallis was anxious for his prized commander to recover and return to duty as soon as possible.

On this particular day as Miss Prescott struggled to feel better despite her illness, and as Ban Tarleton lay shivering with fever in his bed, the dragoons were having much more favorable circumstances. In fact, in another room in the main house, assembled legion officers were shaking hands, offering toasts, and back slapping one another on a recent good turn of fortune and some success.

Major Bordon and Colonel Tavington were particularly happy with the events. The two had concocted a scheme to capture Colonel Ben Martin with the unwitting help of his own compatriots : the rebel militia and Continental Army. Weeks earlier, William had been 'authorized' by General Lord Cornwallis to get Martin anyway he could—the only stipulation was that the Lord General wanted to know nothing about it. With his head 'turned the other way', the dragoon commanders were now free to do anything they wanted to capture or kill the militia leader that had caused them so much trouble.

It all began weeks earlier when they captured a uniformed Continental Army messenger. Within the case he was carrying, they found documents of no particular importance from General George Washington. Although the information in the papers was of little use to them, the handwriting, signature, stationary, and wax seal would turn out to be very useful. These had been verified as authentic by one of their spies.

The officers enlisted the help of a conscripted redcoat private, who had been imprisoned back in England for fraud, to fake the documents and seal. The man had been eager to do so since "righting" himself with the superior officers meant avoiding a possible trip back to jail. The private, under the direction of Tavington and Bordon, faked a letter from General Washington stating that Miss Melanie Prescott's return to Continental custody was of the utmost importance. A reason for the commander wanting her capture was not given as the dragoons decided to leave it open to speculation on the part of the document reader—maybe she was a turncoat in British custody and should be pulled from them? Perhaps she was Washington's secret mistress? It didn't matter: the letter was to elicit interest. The document mentioned a very high reward to be paid to whichever Continental soldier delivered her first to Washington.

Several copies of this fake letter were made and circulated amongst 'selected' Continental officers. Bordon had obtained through his intelligence network, a list of Continental Army officers that were disgruntled and or weary at not having been paid recently by the rebel outlaw government, which was known to have no money to pay for_ anything_. Even more important, at the top of this list were a group of rebel commanders with huge gambling debts. The bounty money in the letter assured that the offer would appeal highly to all the officers on the list.

The redcoats sent this letter out via messengers to the officers on the list, accompanied by their own letter from the British stating how they'd intercepted General Washington's 'letter'. The Redcoats added a little incentive of their own in tandem with General Washington's offer. The British would make it easy on the rebel officer and turn Miss Prescott over to that interested party, willing to let her go for something more precious: they wanted Colonel Benjamin Martin in exchange.

Of course all this was a ruse. They had planned to meet whatever officer might be interested, and after having dangled Miss Prescott as bait in writing, have her with them and ready to exchange for Martin. When the shift would occur, they would keep Miss Prescott _and_ have the militia commander dead or alive. The Continental officer that had been fooled would be killed after the trade.

The dragoon commanders were extremely happy this morning as they had been receiving favorable word over the last weeks that some of the heavily indebted officers were interested in the deal. And just last evening, a successful trade had been negotiated. Seems that a Colonel Paul Johnston of a division of North Carolina Continental regulars had recently been passed over for promotion to General, _and_ had racked up some gambling debts to boot. The reward would sufficiently compensate the parties he owed money to. The Continental colonel had access to Ben Martin and interacted with him frequently, so nothing would seem amiss. Colonel Johnston guaranteed the redcoats that he would have Martin ready to be exchanged on a particular date and place arranged already. Confirmation of this today was the cause for the congratulations this morning.

Bordon headed out to his room to look over some particulars of the trade plan. He also would need to inform Melanie that she would be joining them soon on a journey out of the fort. The decision was made not to give her any details, thus making her fright during the exchange genuine and believable. Alex knew the girl was terrified to leave the fort now, but felt certain he could convince her to do so, reminding her that she would be secure and protected by him and the other dragoons.

**************************

A couple of hours later, Major Bordon visited Melanie in her room after he'd neatly tied up the loose ends of Legion business this morning.

"You don't look well at all, Love," Bordon commented, noticing how pale Miss Prescott looked.

"I still don't feel good," she countered. "I forced myself to get up today hoping that I would feel better."

Alex sat down next to the girl on the window seat and pulled her close to him. He slid his arms around her gently, holding her for a moment.

"Darling, you're going to be accompanying us out of the fort for a few days," Alex declared in a soft voice as he kissed her head and hair.

The girl pulled back from him immediately. "Alex, you know how I feel. I really don't want to leave the fort."

"I know you're afraid," he cajoled, "but you'll be with me and the other dragoons; you will be well protected. You know you're safe with me."

Miss Prescott looked down at the floor, rubbing her forehead with her fingers as she did. She then turned back to look at the officer. "It's not only that," she began, "After being sick, I just don't think I have the stamina to ride for hours; for days."

"I understand," he replied. "We would take the riding slowly if needed. Perhaps you'll have more strength than you think?"

Melanie became quiet, looking troubled. She heaved a sigh and turned away from Alex, shaking her head as she did.

"No," the girl answered in a far off voice. "I don't think I will be able to."

"Darling, I'm sorry but you don't have a choice," Bordon informed, his voice resonated with a bit of stern frustration. "Plans have already been made and cannot be broken."

The young woman felt lost. The girl didn't want to leave the citadel, especially to start the familiar cycle again of being used as rebel bait for one reason or another. Miss Prescott had other things as well to consider for wanting to stay within the compound.

"Alex, please don't make me," Miss Prescott pleaded as she stood up and stepped away from the window.

Major Bordon was becoming angry, upset that the young woman would not cooperate. "Melanie, our reputation is at stake," he stated harshly as he rose to his feet. "A deal has been made and we cannot go back on our word now."

"Perhaps you should have consulted me before you struck a bargain that no doubt involves me!," the girl shot back.

Bordon took a breath, trying to get his ire under control, not wanting a row with his lover. "I love you, darling, but need I say it again? This is military business, and as such, you have no say in it. And when purpose is seen fit, you will be used by us if need be."

"Yes, I know," Melanie answered coldly. "I'm never given a choice."

The major chose not to answer her retort, deciding it best to let the remark pass. He stayed silent, hoping the young woman would change her mind without further prodding from him.

Miss Prescott broke the silence, her voice distraught. "You told me over a year ago, that I was to be used as His Majesty saw fit to gain advantage. That was before we became involved. I stupidly thought that since you love me, that you would stop the British from using me as a pawn."

"We have never used you in a degrading way. We always take care that you are protected in these missions. You know that you would never be traded or compromised—"

"I'm the lure on your hook waiting to be snatched by the fish!" Miss Prescott's voice was fraught with frustration.

It was no secret now to Alexander that she was tired of being used as bait. Still he needed to coax her to keep their schemes running smoothly. He slipped his arms around her from behind and nuzzled her neck. "Melanie, this war will be over soon—"

"And then what?!" she snapped, pulling out of his embrace. The young woman felt confused and near tears. In the moment of awkward silence that passed after her outburst, she wasn't even sure why she made that particular remark.

Miss Prescott sat down again on the window bench. The young woman looked forlorn as she stared at the floor again. After another quiet moment had passed, Alexander joined her there.

Major Bordon had just come off a huge intelligence coupe and would have no one ruin it. Although he loved Melanie, he fought to keep his temper in check, wanting to scold her again for all she'd just argued about. But he decided to allay her fears instead.

"Darling, you'll be fine," he stated. "You will be—"

He stopped suddenly feeling a little confused as Melanie took his hand. As she looked into his eyes, he could tell she was fighting tears.

Miss Prescott pulled his hand toward her, then placed it with his fingers touching her lower abdomen. "I'm carrying your child, Alex."

The officer was thoroughly stunned by the news, having become complacent to the threat of pregnancy over their time together. Bordon had put himself into denial that it wouldn't happen to them. The major reacted to the revelation by pulling his hand away, not wanting to touch her belly, hoping maybe he misunderstood her words. He jumped up from his seat and turned away from the girl.

Alexander shook his head in disbelief, truly bowled over by the news. After a moment of silence for the news to sink in, he turned back to his lover, a look of confusion clouding his features. "You're pregnant? Are you sure?"

Major Bordon half sat, half collapsed back onto the window seat next to Melanie. He still entertained small hope that he misheard what she'd said.

"Yes," she confirmed in a soft voice. "I've been sick—you've seen that with your own eyes. And I just missed my third monthly."

Both were silent for a minute, one still in disbelief at what had been said, the other amazed at having said it. Melanie had known for a few weeks, but had been afraid and unsure how to tell Alex about it. After all, he was married to another woman, albeit in name only.

Miss Prescott broke the silence. "I have things figured out," she began. "You see, the Wilkins family and ours used the same lawyer for our businesses. I'm going to ask Captain Wilkins to put me in touch with him again so that he may inquire about my inheritance; I would be the sole heir. That money should take care of me and the child. And, if His Majesty sees fit to give my plantation back, then that will be a roof over our head. The baby and I will be fine. I don't need anything from you."

"I will take care of you and my child," Bordon declared resolutely, but in a flat tone.

"Really, Alex, you won't have to do anything—"

"I'm not going to abandon you if that is what you're thinking," he said, cross that she would think that.

"It's just that you're married to someone else and it would present—"

"An awkward situation?," asked Alex. "Melanie, I'm long past caring what people think. You know damned well how I entered into my marriage and feel about my wife."

The poor girl could tell that the major wasn't exactly thrilled about the unexpected pregnancy. Her heart broke as well, wishing the situation was different; wishing that Alexander could marry her and make things proper. And though she was happy that the child of the man she loved was growing within her, she was equally as confused and sad.

"I'm sorry, Alex," Melanie stated, her voice cracking. "I'm so sorry." The young woman put her face in her hands and burst into tears over the whole unfortunate situation.

Alexander now felt badly as she wept, feeling like a scoundrel for admonishing her. It was clear to him now that her balking at leaving the fort with him was to protect her fragile condition and the baby—not wanting either to endure long rides through sometimes rugged terrain.

Bordon wrapped his arms about the girl to comfort her. She let him, too tired to fight the man again, yet wanting the security of his embrace.

"Sssshhhh, Melanie," he soothed, his voice soft now, "we'll think of something. We will work something out. As for riding the next few days, I'll see that we take it easy, at a pace that you can manage. "

After letting her cry on his shoulder another moment, he pushed her back to look into her eyes. Taking her head in his hands, he brushed the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs.

"For now," Major Bordon requested, "let's keep this quiet for as long as possible. The rebel countryside already knows about us. God only knows what they'd do with _this_ information."

Miss Prescott shook her head quietly, agreeing with him that it was best. She laid her head back on his shoulder and held tightly to him. The young woman didn't even want to think about what could be done to her should this news get out. Or worse, what might happen to their innocent child.

______________

**Author's note:** It is true that Colonel Banastre Tarleton became very ill and was bedridden for weeks in Autumn 1780, near death. He managed to pull through.

The sickness was speculated to be Yellow Fever, and that is what people of the time mentioned in correspondence of him and the illness.

Diagnosing illness wasn't an exact science at that time and medicine/treatment still crude and primitive. However in recent years, author Tony Scotti did analysis of the causes, symptoms, etc of the various fevers that were prevalent at that time and concluded with the help of modern info, the he more likely suffered from a strain of Malaria. According to the analysis, he lacked some of the major symptoms of Yellow Fever. Since modern diagnosing methods not available at the time, we may never know exactly.

And given the fact that both are Mosquito borne maladies adds to the confusion.

Thanks to Marg. B. for help/clarification on this point!


	35. Chapter 35 A Hopeful Mission

Chapter 35 A Hopeful Mission

Colonel Tavington stood in the clearing just off to the side of the road watching all the activity about him. The cavalry leader squinted up at the sun then heaved a frustrated sigh.

The legion had left the fort a day and a half earlier with Miss Prescott in tow, in order to rendezvous with the Continental Army's Colonel Johnston in hopes of bagging the troublesome militia leader Benjamin Martin.

William crossed his arms and tapped the toe of his boot on the hard ground, irritated at having to make yet another stop. They were to journey to just outside the village of St. George, an easy three day trip with overnight stops. The breaks they had to make along the way, more than he would have usually allowed, had put them behind schedule.

The dragoon commander was now beginning to regret giving the Prescott woman her own mount. Though she could ride, she wasn't as proficient as his experienced cavalrymen, who could expertly ride any terrain and make up time at breakneck speeds if need be. As they rode, the girl lagged behind, unable to keep up with the legion's rate. The colonel knew that it wasn't the horse, for he was one of their finest and more easily to control steeds; it was the rider. Her inability to keep up with the pace coupled with the frequent stops caused them threat of falling even more behind with no hope of making up time.

Tavington walked from his spot and looked around at the men. He had permitted them to remove their riding jackets due to the extreme heat of the day. Some of them were relieving themselves, some milled about talking in the cool shade, while others took sparing drinks from their canteens. The officer became alarmed when he didn't see Miss Prescott in the crowd.

"Christ! I hope she hasn't done something stupid again," he muttered under his breath, fearing that the woman, given her history, had tried to flee yet another time.

As William took a few more steps, he spotted Lieutenant Kidwell, who had been assigned this leg of the journey to guard the girl, near some brush talking with Private Tracy. When he inquired as to the whereabouts of the young woman, he was directed a few feet further to a clump of bushes.

There behind them, he found Melanie on her hands and knees alternately retching dry heaves with productive vomiting. She didn't look at all good to the commander. He assumed that the intense Carolina heat had gotten to the woman.

As she sat back on her knees, she looked pitifully up at the officer. To him, her color still looked bad, and he wasn't too sure that she wasn't going to puke again. He poured a bit of water from his canteen onto his handkerchief and offered it to the girl. She graciously took it.

"We will be leaving within the next ten minutes," he declared firmly.

Melanie said nothing, only acknowledging his instructions with a feeble nod of her head.

William turned away from the sick girl and shook his head. As he stepped away from the bushes, he swore to himself, "Good Lord! First Tarleton taken ill and now her. Is the whole damned fort going to succumb?"

Colonel Tavington then moved back toward the horses when he spotted his second in command emerging from the forest where he had relieved nature. "I'd like a word with you, Major," he called from across the glade.

Bordon quickened his pace and joined his commander near the horses. "Major, we are behind schedule already and I fear if this keeps up, we will be unable to make up the lost time."

"Yes sir."

"If Miss Prescott can't keep our pace, then she'll have to be seated with one of us to ride faster. I understand that this heat has made her sick, but we have to ride quick and must not stop as much. We all have to make sacrifices."

Bordon knew he had to tell his commander the truth now, hoping for a little leniency with the pace and rest breaks, for Melanie and the child's sake. "Sir," the major began tentatively, "I take full responsibility for the slower speed. I told Miss Prescott we could take an easier stride so as not to hurt her. She is with child."

A pang of jealousy hit William, for he still wished Miss Prescott was his. Now not only did his aide-de-camp bed the beautiful girl every night, but she now carried his child. With the birth of the baby, the young woman would now always be tied to Major Bordon, even though he was married to another. Alex Bordon would have Melanie Prescott now forever, and there was nothing anyone could do about it. For William, the memory of the girl moving up and down on his lap, a few fleeting moments of lust when she was angry at and parted from Alexander, was the first—and last—chance he would ever have with the girl. All hope for him was lost now. Again he wished he would have been as bold as his adjutant, not cared about protocol, and taken the woman as _his_ mistress.

Colonel Tavington sucked it up and kept his true feelings hidden. Instead, he made a brash, off color remark. "Well _that's_ no surprise! The two of you copulate like jack rabbits in heat!"

Though his superior's derogatory remark involving his beloved angered him, Alex Bordon held his tongue. He had high hopes for this mission and didn't want to ruin it with an act of insubordination. Instead, he bowed his head to his commander, silently excusing himself.

The major turned and stepped away in search of Melanie. Tavington called after him.

"We depart in ten minutes."

Bordon, turned back to face his commander, walking backwards as he did. "Yes sir," he acknowledged. Alex knew the drill from there.

As Bordon made his way into the midst of the men, he repeated Tavington's order. "Men! We leave in ten minutes sharp. Finish up and prepare to ride out!"

As Alexander trekked into the glade, he spotted the dragoon's third officer, Wentworth. "Captain, see that everyone is ready to go at the Colonel's signal."

"Yes sir!"

The major stopped in his tracks, looking about for Melanie. "Captain? Have you seen Miss Prescott?"

"Sitting over there in the shade," Wentworth answered.

With that, Alexander spotted Melanie reclining back against a tree trunk, resting in the shade. As he moved closer, he saw that her color looked pale and she was obviously exhausted.

The officer knelt down in front of her, covering her hand with his.

"Melanie, there's been a change of plans," he stated softly.

At his words, she opened her eyes and looked quietly up at him. The girl sighed, wondering what was in store for her.

"You're going to ride with me for the remainder of the day," he informed.

"Very well," the girl answered weakly.

He slipped his arms around her and helped her to stand. Melanie slipped her hand into his arm as he escorted the girl back to the horses. Most of the men were there already, putting things back into their packs and securing them. Captain Wentworth stood by, making a last inspection of the area and the horses.

"Lieutenant Kidwell," the major said to the young officer, "Miss Prescott is riding with me the rest of the day. Please take her horse." Alexander climbed onto his beast, then extended his hand to Melanie. The young lieutenant cupped his hands to help the girl up. The junior officer lifted her foot upwards as the ailing girl reached for Bordon's hand and pulled herself up. She mounted backwards, facing Alex.

"Darling," he began, leaning forward to whisper instructions in her ear, "I want you to lean on me and try to rest. Keep your body limp. I'll try to keep Rabelais as steady as possible."

Melanie nodded, slipping her arms about Alex and leaning on him. She wearily laid her head on his shoulder and tried to close her eyes.

Major Bordon slipped his arm around the young woman, holding her body securely against his. He took the reins in his free hand. The second in command watched as Kidwell mounted his steed, then took hold of Melanie's horse to trail behind his.

"Lieutenant," he called, "please bring up the rear."

"Aye sir!" The young officer moved his horse and Miss Prescott's to the very back of the column.

"Hold on tight," Alex told Melanie. "We will be moving at a brisk pace for awhile."

In another moment, the column moved out behind Tavington, who set a quick clip to try to salvage lost time.

***********************

In another day and a half, Tavington's legion finally arrived at the village of St. George. The group made their way on the main road through the sleepy town. The men hardly noticed anymore when residents would scoop their children up and hurriedly take refuge behind the closed doors of their homes.

After leaving the village, they looked for the cowpath that would lead them to where Colonel Johnston and his North Carolina Regiment were. They were to rendezvous at Hamer's cabin, where they made camp. Finding the path, they turned onto the narrow road leading through a dense forest.

Only a few minutes later, the overgrown path with signs of recent trampling through it, emptied into a clearing and crop field. An old cabin, but well kept, stood before the group. As they looked about, there were no tents or soldiers; only signs of a camp hastily packed up and gone. Some smoldering camp fires remained, browned grass squares where tents had once stood, and beaten down grass with horse, boot, and wheel tracks in the dirt. They had been there recently and left in a hurry.

Tavington and Bordon rode their horses forward a bit and caught sight of two men, an older gentleman and a black slave, digging near a hedgerow. The rest stayed back, actively looking about.

"Search the house and buildings," Captain Wentworth ordered, "stay alert." With that, several men dismounted, drew guns, and began to move about the cabin and property, surveying it. Captain Wilkins stayed seated on his horse, which was next to Melanie's, who felt better today and rode on her own horse, actually able to keep the pace with no trouble.

Wilkins saw her straighten, craning her neck to look about and could sense her apprehension. "We'll be fine," he said, wanting her to calm down, "It looks as if the rebels left in a hurry." Miss Prescott nodded her head and sighed wearily.

She tilted her head a little as she spotted Alex and the colonel near the field talking with two men. The girl noticed the men had been digging and spotted a long bundle on the ground next to the upturned dirt.

Near the fence row, Major Bordon and Colonel Tavington drew their guns as they looked down from atop their horses at the two men. The men dropped their digging implements and put up their hands when they heard the pistols cock.

"I don't want any trouble," the older man said. "We will cooperate."

"Your name, sir," asked Bordon.

"I'm Henry Hamer. This here's Elias, my helper." He motioned to his black slave.

"You're the owner of this farm, then," Tavington asked.

"Yes," he confirmed.

With that, Bordon and Tavington dismounted, still covering the man with their weapons. "Where are the North Carolina Continentals?" asked the colonel.

"They left hours ago," Mr. Hamer stated.

"Hmm…We were looking for Colonel Johnston," Bordon said.

The two dragoon leaders watched the farmer and his slave curiously as they looked at each other questioningly. Hamer moved downward slowly and pulled back a flap of the canvas wrapped bundle to reveal a corpse.

"That's him."

William and Alex moved in closer to look at the face of the dead man, although they weren't sure what Colonel Johnston looked like. They could see that the top part of the uniform that was exposed was that of an officer's.

"What happened," Bordon asked, his eyes as round as saucers.

"Early this morning we heard a commotion outside the cabin," Mr. Hamer began in his country drawl. "Elias and I came out to find a few of the soldiers gathered about the colonel. He was on the ground, clutching his chest in great pain. Within a few minutes, he died. He must have had a bad heart. Pity to see a young man go so quickly."

"Oh, Bloody Hell!," Tavington swore in frustration spinning on his heel abruptly away from the grave. After taking all the time to concoct the ruse, set up the deal,and ride three days to meet the man, just to find him dead.

"Were any of his belongings left here?" Bordon queried.

"No, his soldiers took them," the old farmer answered. "Said they were going to deliver his things to his family."

"Search the body," commanded Tavington in obvious irritation. The officer turned back around slowly, watching his adjutant work as the wheels in his own mind spun the situation around it.

The old man and the slave stepped back from the corpse as Bordon moved toward it. The aide-de-camp knelt down and pulled the sides of the makeshift shroud away from the body. He quickly checked over the dead colonel and found nothing but a letter in the inside breast pocket of his jacket.

Alexander stepped back toward his superior with letter in hand. They two looked over it, Bordon pointing out the letter "J" in the broken wax seal on the envelope. It was addressed to Colonel Johnston and was from one of his children. Satisfied that this was enough to identify the man, the major respectfully tucked the letter back into the dead officer's pocket and closed the shroud back up loosely.

"Thank you," Bordon said. "You may go back to your burial."

The farmer and his slave picked up their shovels and resumed the task of burying the continental officer. They glanced up from their task after a moment to see that the redcoat major had moved a few feet away.

"We have men searching the premises," Bordon informed. "It's protocol."

Mr. Hamer nodded his head in obvious understanding and acceptance that there was nothing he could do about it. He only hoped the redcoats wouldn't damage or pillage the place.

"Thank you," the colonel added to Bordon's words, "His Majesty greatly appreciates the cooperation of his subjects." With that, both officers holstered their weapons and took a few steps away from the farmer and his slave.

"I'm sorry sir," Alex apologized in a quiet voice. "This was a wasted trip."

"Yes, _this_ part of it," Tavington began in a low, devious tone, "but maybe we can salvage the rest of it. Do we have the list of Martin's men with us?"

"Yes," the second in command answered. He reached into his jacket pocket, quickly producing the list.

"Higgins! Tracy!," Tavington yelled to the two nearest privates. They rushed to where their commander stood.

In a subdued voice, he gave them their instructions. "Watch those two. I need to confer with Major Bordon, " he nodded his head toward Mr. Hamer and Elias. "If they finish their burial soon, keep them at the grave until I give notice."

"Yes sir," they acknowledged moving toward the farmer and slave who were busy burying the dead officer. They trained their pistols on the two and watched them intently.

Alexander eyed his commander as he walked to his horse where he pulled a map from his saddle bag. Tavington spotted Wilkins, still seated on his horse and close to Miss Prescott on hers, who he'd been assigned to watch.

"Captain Wilkins," Tavington called, "Would you join us, please, on the porch."

"Yes, sir," he answered. "I'll help you down," Wilkins offered to Melanie as he dismounted. The weary girl needed a break from being on horseback for so long. The Captain helped her to the ground then quickly made his way to the cabin's small porch.

Once there, he found Tavington and Bordon standing by a small table, a map of the area spread out upon it. The major thrust a piece of paper into Wilkins' hands. He studied it quickly as Tavington spoke to his two officers in a low voice.

"Captain," began William, "Look at that list and then I'd like you to mark as many of those men's homes on this map as you know."

"Yes sir," Wilkins obeyed without resistance. He suspected something like this may be coming as Tavington and Bordon had asked him only days earlier about Benjamin Martin, his home, children, extended family and their whereabouts. The loyalist officer took the pencil and began marking spots on the map.

"We will hit as many of those homesteads as we can on the way back to the fort," William instructed. "We'll harass the militia's families and flush him out. I'll be damned if this is going to be a wasted trip."

________________________

**Author's note regarding the snide remark that Colonel Tavington makes of Major Bordon and Miss Prescott's relationship:** Common North American rabbits aren't 'rabbits' at all; they are Hares. When colonists first came to North America in the 1500-1600s, for unknown reasons they dropped the formal use of the name 'Hare' and began calling hares 'rabbits.' (Apparently Rabbits, Hares, and Pikas are all related within the Lagomorpha family. Though appearing similar, the differences between them are in dwellings and physical characteristics, as well as the different characteristics of the offspring at birth)

The term 'jack rabbit' comes from the length of the animal's ears, being long the same as a 'jackass', hence the birth of the nickname by the colonists of 'jackass rabbit', shortened to 'jack rabbit.'

Hares—or rabbits as referred to commonly and in this chapter, have a legendary sexual prowess that's well known. The females of the species can have several litters a year.

Tavington thinks (_an obvious exaggeration by his mind_) that Alex and Melanie spend all their time jumping into and out of one another's beds!

Thanks to National Geographic for the information!


	36. Chapter 36 Of Conscience And Loyalty

Chapter 36 Of Conscience and Loyalty

Tavington's legion had been riding for hours since leaving the village of St. George and Miss Prescott was tired of it. It was evening now, and she feared they would ride all night as no plans had been imparted to her, as was the usual scenario. With her eyes now accustomed to the dark, she saw Captain Wilkins and Colonel Tavington riding ahead of her where the two led, make a hand signal to the dragoons behind them. With that, the unit pulled off the main road into a secluded glade.

Once there, Bordon left from riding beside her to pull up next to the other commanders. Melanie watched the five officers confer and strained to hear what they were saying. She suspected they were near something and close to implementing some kind of plan. Of what, she had no idea. In only a few moments, the officers broke up and rode close to small groups of dragoons, giving them orders in voices only a little louder than an intimate conversation.

Lieutenant Kidwell rode closest to the young woman, talking to a group of privates in earshot of her. "The colonel's group will search the house," he declared to the small group. "The Major's group will take the outbuildings, Captain Wentworth's group will check the grounds and woods. My group is on lookout. Private Masters?!"

Melanie saw the boyish private ride to where the young officer was. She strained again to hear what was being said.

"Sir?" Private Masters acknowledged.

"You and Gwynne will veer off the lane to a safe hiding place of your choice," instructed Kidwell, "taking Miss Prescott with you. Guard her. Keep her at a safe distance. If anything happens to the rest of us, especially Bordon, you are to get her back to the fort as quickly as possible and put her under the care of a general."

Shivering when she heard this, Melanie wondered what was planned. The girl hoped it wasn't petty mischief. In fact, she wished they wouldn't make any stops at all except to camp. The young woman was already exhausted. Now she feared that since they hadn't already bivouacked by sunset, that they were not going to and would continue to ride on through the night or at best, stop at some roadside glade and bed down with no tents for just a couple of hours. She wasn't sure how much more of this her pregnant body could withstand.

Within a few moments they were riding again. As they rounded a bend, they headed up a tree lined lane. The young woman saw a modest, but beautiful plantation home at the end of it surrounded by many outbuildings. She didn't recognize this place, but only knew they had been skirting the Santee River on the way home.

Suddenly Privates Gwynne and Masters steered her and the steed she rode off to the side, with Bordon in tow. She saw Alex make a hand motion to one of his men, unknown to her he'd signaled for them to go on without him and he'd catch up in a moment. The beasts trampled their way into some bushes where the men stopped them.

Bordon reached back into his saddle pack and found one of the usual black strips of cloth that he carried to blindfold prisoners with. He leaned over to Melanie and pulled her a little closer.

"I'm sorry darling," he apologized. "The decision has been made to blindfold you. You're not allowed to see our actions." This was Alexander's personal decision. He thought it best if she didn't see what they had to do. The officer especially didn't want her to see any brutality.

She panicked inside as her memory flashed back to the day the rebel militia kidnapped her and how frightening it was to lose her sight—artificially and temporarily. The girl also felt suddenly like they couldn't trust her.

"No…um…Alex, please..," Melanie began to protest, "please don't. You don't need to do this. I can't even see anything from here…and it's dark—"

"It will just be for a matter of minutes. It will come off again when we move," Bordon assured her. After securing the material in place, he gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "You'll be fine darling."

Miss Prescott heard him ride back through the bushes and even using the crop on his horse to move him along. In a moment, the galloping hoof beats melded into the other noise her now heightened sense of hearing was picking up.

The girl sat still on her horse, holding the pommel as Masters had taken hold of the reins to steady the beast. As she sat there, her mind ran away with itself as it heard all kinds of commotion. It was desperately trying to imagine pictures to fit with the sounds it heard.

Melanie heard the familiar voices of the dragoons along with movement in the grass and on the dirt. She heard footfalls on wooden steps as men moved into and out of buildings.

"Prepare to fire the house!" , Melanie heard Tavington bark to his men. His voice had a slight echo to it, as if it was projected from a building, the sound bouncing off the wooden structure. She thought he may have been in a doorway calling out to his men or possibly on the porch.

Then the girl heard liquid as if being poured or thrown. Indeed, the dragoons were throwing flammable liquid onto the house.

"This one is head of the house slaves, sir." Melanie identified the voice of Captain Wilkins.

"Where are they hiding," she heard Tavington's voice again, demanding an answer. An instant later, she heard a loud gunshot, making her jump, then shiver. Miss Prescott correctly surmised that someone must have been shot. The young woman tried to push it out of her mind as the horses acted up after the noise.

"Whoa…easy," Gwynne said quietly, trying to calm the horses. "Steady now."

"Keep looking! They're here somewhere!" Melanie heard Tavington shouting orders again. The girl could hear a flurry of activity; people scurrying about at a faster pace.

"Torch the house!" she heard Tavington command. Then she identified the sound of torches aflame and whooshing through the air. Glass crashed, taking her by surprise again, and she assumed that a torch must have gone into a window. In a moment, she heard flames devouring wood.

Then, as the house was burning, gunshots rang out away from the house. Melanie's head reflexively snapped around from facing the house now to the direction of down the lane though she could see nothing. There were the sounds of horses whinnying, and several more guns shots.

"To horse," cried Tavington. Miss Prescott shuddered as she heard the command very clearly. She heard gunfire returned from the direction of the house, then horses galloping down the lane. Melanie worried even more now, knowing that some sort of fight was imminent. As always, she hoped Alex was safe in the fray.

After what seemed an eternity, a rush of horses came back into the glade where Melanie awaited with the two privates.

"Did you get the scoundrel?" Gwynne asked.

"No. Lost him in the darkness," Bordon replied as he reached over and removed Miss Prescott's blindfold. The girl was relieved to have it off, and equally as soothed to see Alex again. She smiled at him as she saw more dragoons streaming in out of the corner of her eye.

Within moments, the group was off again, moving out on the same lane they came in. Melanie couldn't help but look back over her shoulder, seeing the lovely house engulfed in flames and starting to cave in on itself.

"Don't look back Melanie," Alex admonished. "You were blindfolded for a reason. It's best you don't see anything."

***********************

As they put distance between themselves and the burning Selton house, the legion looked for a place of refuge until Dawn. This was not the main road and it was lonely: no houses, inns, or pubs on it for a very long stretch. To make matters worse, it was after one in the morning and thunder could be heard in the distance.

That distant thunder and now lightning seemed to move in quickly, and the dragoons were left scrambling for shelter. They found a small glade at the top of a gentle slope and bunched into it. Tavington ordered tents to be put up quickly and horses to be tied up equally as fast. Melanie helped tie the horses as she watched the men working at a fast pace setting up a few of the wedge tents. The colonel ordered all to double up for the glade was too crowded with all of them for everyone to have their own tent with space in between. The men didn't complain; forfeiting the privacy of their own tents for the chance to stay warm and dry was a small sacrifice.

A storm broke loose just as the last of the men were crawling into the tents. Melanie,of course, shared Major Bordon's tent since it was no secret anymore about the two of them. The two cuddled up and fell asleep immediately, as did the rest of the camp. It rained gently after the storm, but steadily.

It was still raining at six in the morning when Colonel Tavington awoke. He noticed that the Carolina heat had finally broken, but given way to a cool, dampness. Rather than exposing everyone to the elements, he made the decision to let everyone sleep in three more hours hoping the rain would stop by then. Might as well let them sleep as the mud on the road would have slowed them anyway.

**************************

In the watery, early morning light, Melanie and Alex held each other closely as they were near the climax of their lovemaking. She looked into his eyes as he plunged in and out of her from atop her body. They kept their coupling as quiet as possible, all the while alternately kissing quietly and gazing into each other's eyes.

The young woman soon closed her eyes and let her head sink back into the pillow as the officer kept his rhythm steady and his thrusting deep.

"Oh….Alex…mmm," whispered Melanie, doing all she could to keep her throes of passion quiet.

"SSshhh…. Melanie," Alex hushed her, quietly reminding her of the others in close proximity to their tent.

The girl pulled him against her body, wrapping her arms tightly about him. As she came she buried her face in his shoulder, muffling her cries of satisfaction. Alexander stifled his own cries, putting his mouth against her soft neck as he gasped.

The two pulled away from each other, Melanie pushing her skirt down and Alex tugging his breeches back up. The couple kissed deeply and lovingly for a moment, commencing a euphoric yet soft afterglow. The young woman rested on her back as her lover rolled on to his side facing her, where he propped his head up on his hand and bent elbow.

The two were silent for a moment, listening to the steady downpour of raindrops against the tent. They were thankful that the linseed oiled canvas was holding up, repelling the water and keeping them dry.

After a quiet pause, Alex tentatively put his hand on Miss Prescott's lower belly, resting it there. Equally as cautiously he began to caress the spot right over her now full womb.

Melanie opened her eyes and whispered, "That's the first time you've touched me there since you've known of the baby."

Her lover smiled and said nothing, continuing to rub her pregnant, but still inconspicuous belly. The girl caressed his fore arm as he did.

"I know you aren't happy about this, Alex," she remarked quietly, wanting to clear the air.

"No, that's not it," he answered back softly. "I'm just surprised, though I shouldn't be with as much as we are together. You'll have to give me time to adjust to becoming a father again."

The major brushed a soft kiss against her cheek then continued in a whisper. "I'm afraid more than anything," he declared. "When I was a child, an aunt who was visiting our home gave birth before her time and died while doing so. I witnessed all of the grief surrounding that, especially my mother's, for it was her sister. It was terrible! I just want a safe delivery for both of you."

Alex sighed, pausing for a moment before going on. "Are you happy, darling?"

Melanie was quiet for a minute. She looked thoughtful and answered, "I must admit I wasn't at first given our circumstances. But after a few weeks, realizing that _I was_ after having missed two monthlies in a row, I was happy to have your child in me. I was ready to become a mother. I am so anxious to feel the baby move within me."

Alexander kissed her as he whispered, "You will make a beautiful, wonderful, mother!" He punctuated his words with more kisses.

Smiling, the young girl rolled over on to her side so that Alex now spooned her. The officer left his hand on her belly, almost as if protecting his baby and the child's mother. Melanie covered his hand with hers.

The two cuddled close together, feeling the cool air permeating the canvas. "I'm glad the colonel let us rest in this morning."

"Me too," Bordon agreed. "Everyone can use the rest!"

*************************

"Beautiful country," Colonel Tavington said while admiring some wildflowers. "Everything grows here!"

Melanie sat nearby in the overgrown field on a blanket, glad for the rest but sorry she was blindfolded again. She could feel the sun warming her skin after breaking through the clouds earlier in the day and drying up the rain.

Suddenly, the bloodcurdling scream of a male, in obvious pain, broke the golden silence in the meadow. Though blinded, Miss Prescott could only imagine the harm being inflicted on the man.

She heard William Tavington heave a sigh, then his footsteps moved away through the brush. The girl heard another pair of footsteps and surmised that someone followed him.

As she sat for a few more quiet moments on the blanket, she recalled the morning. The officers conferred again over the map, they broke camp, then left. They rode for awhile on the puddle strewn main road, then turned off onto another path.

As she rode on her own today, she kept up well with the men, always staying near Alexander's side. They soon spotted a spacious cabin through the foliage, surrounded by an overgrown field.

"This is Marcus Cameron's farm," Captain Wilkins announced as the group paused at the woodline. All stayed silent for a moment as they studied the homestead, thinking it was deserted. Then they saw two horses grazing to the side of the cabin, then glimpsed a man inside walk past one of the windows.

From there, duties were assigned, with the men quickly dispersing to carry them out. Again, Melanie was blindfolded, and again she protested, immediately hushed by Major Bordon.

From that point, the girl had to rely on her sense of hearing again to sort out what was going on. First she felt Alex leave her side. Then she felt the Colonel brush past her, leading her to believe the two men moved away from the group to discuss something.

Though the two officers kept their voices low, she heard part of their discussion. "Secure the house. Detain the inhabitants. Do what you need to get the information," Tavington instructed in a devious voice.

"Yes sir," Bordon complied. Footsteps soon moved through the brush and away from where Miss Prescott stood blindfolded. She heard men following, as well.

Since this was a small farm with limited buildings and land, not as many were needed to carry out the tasks as needed the night before. A few of the men waited behind and would come out later when allowed to do so. Colonel Tavington, along with Captain Wilkins, made their way into the front field, waiting for the signal from Major Bordon. Private Tracy escorted the now blindfolded Miss Prescott out there as well for a respite.

Continuing to bask in the sun and lost in thoughts and recollections, Melanie blissfully forgot what was going on around her for a moment and felt peace. Having lost all track of time, her meager respite was shattered when another horrendous scream pierced the air, bringing her back to reality. It so startled her that she sat up straight and rigid, wishing she hadn't heard the scream.

The girl soon found Private Tracy offering his arm to her. After helping her up, he led her back toward the barn when he had been given the signal to gather everyone together. She felt the overgrown weeds brushing against her as she was led out of the pasture. Miss Prescott felt like she had walked enough steps that she was close to the buildings now, and this was confirmed when she heard voices of the others milling about.

"Tracy! Could you come here a moment," Melanie heard someone request. She felt the private leave her side. The young woman stood there for a moment, not sure what to do. When the soldier didn't return, she removed her blindfold, assuming the dragoons were finished with their business.

Wondering where Alex was, she wandered into the cabin, remembering that Tavington had asked him to take care of things within.

"Alex?", she called upon entering the cabin.

Once in there, she was astonished and sickened to see blood splatter on the walls and floors along with the bodies of two dead men, one which she nearly tripped over. The men had obviously been beaten badly then killed, for they were black and blue and covered with blood.

Melanie gasped and shook. Feeling immediately sick, she ran out of the cabin and down the front porch. The poor girl fell to her knees in front of the stoop and began to puke. Bordon found her there a moment there.

"Are you alright," he asked as he knelt beside her.

Melanie quickly sat back on her knees and regained her composure. She shook her head 'yes' as she sniffled and fought back tears.

Alexander helped her to her feet. "I was trying to find you," she explained.

"Well, don't!", the officer scolded. "Stay with the guard assigned to you. There could be rebels nearby, like there was last night. Do you want them to take you again? Hurt you?"

"No," she said.

"Then _stay_ with your guard," the major admonished in a cross voice.

Soon, Melanie found herself gathered up by Captain Wentworth in a group that moved out first. From her horse, she looked back and saw the men pulling the battered corpses out of the cabin, placing them strategically on the lawn in front as a warning for all who should venture there. As the young woman looked back a second time, she saw the cabin being set to flames, which was quickly becoming the dragoons' signature calling card, equally as ominous as the dead British officers left strewn about the Carolina countryside to rot by Martin's militia.

********************

The dragoons stalked the Billings' cabin from the woods, all thinking about a course of action. As usual, Melanie saw the officers dismount and meet at the side away from the group, making plans for the situation of the moment. While still on her horse, she viewed the lonely, small cabin and farm from the distance the same as the dragoons did. Miss Prescott noticed a woman coming out of the building with a clothes basket in hand. A little, red curly haired boy followed behind her, darting about happily. Melanie was filled with dread, worried for these people. She hoped that the dragoons would not be rough on the mother and son.

The young woman saw the officers break up from their conference and move between small groups of soldiers, no doubt giving them orders in their hushed voices. The girl sighed, was tired, and decided not to try to analyze what would go on at this secluded place.

She readied herself when she saw Alexander approaching, blindfold in hand. Melanie dismounted and stood by her horse, turning away from him without being told to. He secured the black cloth in place over her eyes.

"What? No protest today?" asked the major, half kidding, half sarcastically.

"Why waste the time and breath?!," she volleyed in a serious tone, "It does me no good."

Bordon did not answer her remark. He instead took her hand and led her over to a tree, seating her on a blanket. Melanie sighed, resigned to this now usual treatment, and rested her head back against the thing. She was thankful to have a break from riding.

The young woman listened to the horses stamp their way out of the brush. They were unusually quiet once leaving them. She couldn't help but think they were walking the horses gently toward the cabin to surprise the inhabitants.

Melanie thought that Alex certainly had figured out that she could hear a lot of what they were doing, and see part of it before and after, but yet he still insisted on blindfolding her. She wondered if he thought that she couldn't envision the images to fit the sounds, then put two and two together? Or, maybe he denied that fact?

Another more hopeful part of her thinking assumed that he did it for her protection should the dragoons be 'called on the carpet' for their doings. Though she could hear things, she would then truly be able to testify that she did not see what was perpetrated. As her mind continued to volley reasoning back and forth, it numbed her enough to boredom. She drifted off for a time, but heard the colonel shouting in the distance which destroyed her bit of rest.

"Mrs. Billings, we don't want your husband," Tavington cajoled. "We simply need to know where the militia is. Or more importantly, Benjamin Martin."

"Give him up and there won't be any trouble for you and your boy," Bordon said authoritatively but laced with a hint of menace. Melanie could hear their stern and raised voices. Melanie despised hearing Alex use that tone of voice, sending chills down her spine.

"I don't know where they are," Mrs. Billings said, looking worried, "He doesn't tell me those things!"

"Very well! Fire the house!" Tavington shouted clearly enough for Miss Prescott to hear.

She felt badly for this rebel woman and her child. To the girl, they seemed to be minding their own business, and now they were going to lose their home. Melanie secretly hoped they had someone to go stay with.

The young woman then heard the familiar whooshing noise of torches cutting through the air. The girl could clearly hear the sound of the wood igniting. Then she heard the woman crying.

"Just tell us anything you know," Major Bordon coaxed.

"I _barely _know Colonel Martin," Mrs. Billings stated, nearly begging. "I don't know his family. I don't know where he'd keep them. And I don't have any idea where my husband and the colonel would hide."

"Very well," Tavington said, not satisfied.

Miss Prescott began to worry after she had heard all this. She had put together the bits and pieces she heard and seen in her mind and surmised that they were obviously trying to flush out that Martin man. The young woman thought that if the woman and child would just surrender and go to the fort under arrest with the dragoons, they would at least be safe in the prison camp, and this might lure the man out quicker and without so much mischief. Better yet, curb any violent action and further property destruction.

Melanie heard the woman shout at her boy. "Go Johnnie! Run away!"

Instantly Miss Prescott shivered and sat rigid. She knew that this would irritate the already frustrated and tired dragoon commanders. They weren't happy at all with any of the rebels right now and all their tempers were worn thin.

A gunshot rang out. Then another. Melanie held her breath as they did, wondering what was happening. Was someone shot? Warning shots fired? Were these the first shots of a skirmish? Maybe rebels were hiding and had fired on them. The girl's mind was stumbling over itself speculating what had happened.

The young woman let her breath out after a moment, hearing no more shots. She heard hoofbeats across the grass once again, getting closer.

Melanie could hear the leaders in conversation as they approached. They continued talking as she heard the horses coming back into the woods, trampling over the brush.

"We didn't need another colonial prisoner—especially a child!" she heard Tavington say.

Bordon dismounted and moved toward Melanie. The girl felt his hand touch her arm and help her to stand. He continued talking as he removed his lover's blindfold.

"We could have used them to lure the militia to the fort," Bordon remarked in exasperation.

"No. And two more prisoners would just slow us down," the dragoon leader disagreed.

Within minutes, the legion was back on their steeds and riding out toward the main road. Melanie was now on Alexander's horse seated in front, riding tandem with him again.

The young woman looked back at the modest cabin and saw it engulfed in flames. She saw no sign of the mother and the red headed, curly haired little boy.

Major Bordon took his hand, which had been around Melanie's waist from behind, gripped her chin firmly and pulled her head back around to face to the front of them.

"Please don't look," he said, obvious irritation in his voice.

"If you didn't want me to see, then you should have left me blindfolded," Melanie snapped at him. "Or better, you should have left me at the fort to begin with!"

The couple's testiness with each other today reared its ugly head. The officer stopped the horse in its tracks while the other dragoons made their way around them, filtering to either side of his horse.

"Do you really think I don't have any idea what is going on?!" the young woman asked. "Did you think I wouldn't figure it out!?"

"Do not start on this with me today, Melanie," Bordon said through gritted teeth. "I am not in the mood!"

"How do you think _I _feel," asked Miss Prescott, now equally as upset.

"NOT one more word about this," warned Alex. "We had both best keep our mouths shut for awhile to avoid an argument."

Melanie turned back to look at him, fighting back tears caused by his harsh words. "I just want to go home. I'm sick. I'm tired."

"I do to, darling," he conceded, the harshness dissipating in his voice a bit, "as badly as you. I'm tired as well. It won't be much longer. We're about a days' ride away."

Miss Prescott nodded her head in agreement. Wearily, the girl settled back onto Bordon, closing her eyes in the daylight sun.

***************************

The dragoons met up with a small column of Redcoat foot soldiers. Melanie, from her own horse again, saw Tavington ride over to introduce himself and talk with their commander. He soon motioned for Alex to join them. In an instant, the major trotted his horse that direction, leaving Melanie's side.

The girl was exceptionally depressed today. She hadn't slept the night before, thinking about the things that she imagined the dragoons had done in the last few days. The young woman kept trying to pull her spirits up, reminding herself that Alexander had told her they were within miles of the fort and would be home later that evening.

The dragoon commanders rejoined the group again only a few moments later. Miss Prescott watched the column of infantry shift positions and begin to march in formation behind them.

Soon, they arrived in the small village Pembroke. As usual, the townspeople upon seeing Redcoats, grabbed their children and ran inside of their houses. Doors slammed all around as the townspeople disappeared from their front porches.

That same ominous feeling came over Miss Prescott again. She sighed, fully expecting the blindfold to come out of Bordon's saddle bag at any minute.

Melanie stopped her horse beside Alexander's as he halted. He waved Wilkins over to join them.

"I understand that both of you may know some of these people," the second in command remarked. "We need you both to inform them to gather at the church. Colonel Tavington wishes to address the whole town. They're likely to ease if you two are the ones making the request."

Wilkins and the girl both nodded wearily. Bordon continued. "Captain, you stay on horseback and round them up. Miss Prescott, please dismount and go house to house."

With that, Wilkins was walking his horse through the streets talking with the brave people still outside and Melanie began moving from door to door. After covering two houses and a shop on one side of the street, the girl crossed to the other to catch those homes. As she crossed, a man whom she had just glimpsed talking with Wilkins, gave her a mean look as they passed each other.

"British slut!" he taunted in a low voice as he passed her.

Melanie quickly brushed the horrid words off and rushed up the sidewalk to another house. A dark haired woman answered with a sandy haired little girl holding on to her skirts.

"Colonel Tavington needs to address everyone at the church," stated Miss Prescott.

The woman said nothing, instead giving Melanie the strangest of looks.

"Ma'am?" asked the young woman, wondering what was wrong. The girl, not sure if the woman was looking strangely at her, or past her out onto the street. Miss Prescott turned her head to look out at the street. As she did, she glimpsed a name on a sign at the end of the sidewalk which she had failed to pay attention to earlier when she entered the yard. It said, "Dan Scott. Bookkeeper".

The girl realized this was Dan Scott's wife. "Mrs. Scott, is anything wrong?

The woman answered slowly, as if choosing her words. "You're that pacifist's daughter, aren't you?"

Melanie had a quick flash of memory back to when she had been kidnapped. Her name, "Prescott," seemed to garner negative attention with the rebels. She chose not to confirm who she was, but tried to steer the talk back to the matter presently at hand.

"Um….The church, Ma'am. Colonel Tavington wants to speak—"

"Why, you are!," she drawled. "You _are_ Hayden Prescott's daughter. I remember you. From that meeting Mr. Pembroke held at the church here 3 or 4 years ago. And the party at the Pembroke farm. You were there both times with your father. It _is_ you!"

"You need to make your way to the church madam," Melanie said, obviously shaken up but trying not to show it.

The woman's face suddenly changed from inquisitive to drawn and angry. "Very well. We'll go to the church. But I want you off my property now, you Redcoat whore!"

Miss Prescott turned quickly on her heel with no further words and hurried down the sidewalk. As she stepped back onto the town's main street, she noticed a lot of people making their way to the church. She hoped that Captain Wilkins had caught most of them already; she didn't know how much more name calling she could take.

In a few moments, the streets emptied, yards were quiet, and the church was crowded with townspeople in it and dragoons and infantry redcoats milling about outside of it. Melanie saw Colonel Tavington ride his horse right into the church, which surprised her.

She stood quietly back from the church within the crown of British around it. The girl was surprised she hadn't yet been blindfolded. But yet, she reasoned, they wouldn't blind her for a simple meeting. The girl continued to mill about, kicking some dirt with the toe of her shoe, waiting for the colonel to get done so that they could get back on the road to home.

The young woman perked up when she saw Tavington ride his horse out of the church.  
"And indeed you may! That is between you and God!," she heard him shout back to the people inside the sanctuary.

With that, Melanie saw the redcoats that had surrounded the church begin to close the people up in it, boarding the windows, barring and locking all the doors. The girl assumed he put them in there to keep them out of the way. They were probably low on supplies by now and needed to raid and pillage some—much easier with the townspeople out of the way and unable to fight.

Miss Prescott spotted Alex walking toward her. She walked to meet him as he stood on the ground near where Captain Wilkins was seated upon his horse. The girl had to move out of the way to let the colonel through on his horse, rejoining his men.

"Ready to fire the town on your orders," stated Captain Wilkins.

"The town?" Tavington questioned. "Burn the church."

Miss Prescott overheard this. She was certain she had heard wrong. She_ had _to have heard wrong!

"The church?" Wilkins questioned, also unsure that his commander had really given that order. "But….the people….inside?"

"Yes! I said the church, captain," Tavington repeated in an ominous vice.

Melanie was stunned. They really could not be doing this. They just couldn't! She wasn't sure what to do. Surely her childhood friend Jim Wilkins would not do it. Certainly he was not afraid of insubordination for the right cause.

Wilkins protested the order. "There's no honor in this."

Tavington did not like his orders questioned. He spoke back to Wilkins with some irritation in his voice. "Didn't you say 'all those who stand against England deserve to die a traitor's death'?"

Wilkins was taken aback and could say nothing to deny his own words.

"Burn the church, Captain," Tavington ordered sternly, his words slow and measured. He shot a firm and condescending look toward Captain Wilkins that showed that he had better not disobey this order or he would suffer wrath. This was Tavington's test to measure Wilkins' loyalty, as he had always been suspicious of local loyalists.

"You can't do this!" Melanie blurted out! "There are women and children in there!" The girl had specifically recalled a very pregnant woman, obviously close to her due date, moving into the church. When she'd seen that woman, her hand dropped to her own belly, absently rubbing it.

Colonel Tavington shot her a look that would kill her if eyes were a weapon. He looked at her, then looked at Wilkins, obviously angry and frustrated with both of them.

"You two Yankees had best not questions my orders again," he warned with a look that implied he meant business, "OR ELSE!"

"I am not going to be a witness to this barbarity!" Melanie challenged the colonel.

"Bordon, take care of the problem, please," the colonel requested, his eyes narrowed and jaw set hard. Alex knew exactly what it meant. The 'request' was really an order that translated to "get your woman under control or else!".

Miss Prescott opened her mouth to speak again but was quickly grabbed roughly by the arm and ushered a few feet away by Major Bordon. "Melanie, this is military business," he said sternly as he pulled her over next to a small shed adjacent to the church yard.

The girl pulled away from his grip and looked Alexander in the eye, posing in a stance of challenge with her hands on her hips. She let loose on the man she loved, absolutely tearing him apart. "Don't put me in the middle of your schemes or plans ever again!," she screamed.

Before he could counter, she continued the tirade. "This is too much! You cannot do this! I am not going to stand here and be a party to the burning of innocent people!"

"They aren't innocent!" Bordon shouted back. "They've helped the rebels. Putting an end to them will hamper the militia!"

"No it won't!" she shot back. "They'll get help from someone or somewhere else!"

Major Bordon was tired and angry. He felt she had no position to question British military matters or tactics.

The officer grabbed her shoulders firmly, tightly enough to bruise her skin and put her against the wall of the little building. "I, or any of these men here, don't have to explain anything to you! Do not ever, EVER, question dragoon business again! Do I make myself clear!?"

Miss Prescott tried to wriggle out from his firm hands, which continued to pin her to the wall. When she found his strength overpowering her for the moment, she stopped. She stared quietly up at her lover, giving him a hard look.

"Is that clear?!"

"Yes," Melanie answered reluctantly as she pulled away from him. "Yes it is. I'm not going to be involved in 'dragoon business' any longer! I refuse! And if the British want to punish me, then so be it!"

The girl went on berating Bordon, and indirectly Tavington and the rest of the dragoons loudly and defiantly. "I know what you_ have done and still do _to people. I have looked the other direction long enough! I want no more of this! No more of what you do to people!"

"I'm not going to stand here and witness these people burned alive!" The girl continued, letting no one get a word in edgewise. "My reputation is bad enough now as it is by my own hand. I don't need to be associated with all your misdeeds to get me into further trouble!"

"Melanie!" , the major yelled angrily.

"No Alex! Stop!" , she roared back. "I refuse to let you parade me around the countryside any longer. I'm not going to be your rebel bait! You dragoons aren't going to use me anymore! I mean it! No more! This was the last time!"

She moved around Alexander just in time to hear Wilkins speaking. "Give me the torch," Captain Wilkins said reluctantly. He was passed a torch, which he held for a moment as he hesitated. Then, he threw it on to the roof of the church, igniting the structure.

"The honor is found in the end, not the means," said Tavington in twisted words of comfort. "This will be forgotten."

Melanie heard all the words from the two officers as she stormed past them. The girl had reached her breaking point with the killing of a whole village. She cared not at this point, if she would be disciplined later. All she wanted was to get the hell away from the cavalry. While the young woman owed her snap to being forced to do things she didn't want to be a part of such as being present during British misdeeds, which she perceived as making her an unwilling participant. But that was only one part. The culmination of that with pregnancy hormones and sheer exhaustion made the girl come completely apart. She was angry and no longer thinking straight.

Miss Prescott found her horse and pulled herself quickly up on to it. She dug her heels into its side and spurred the beast on to move away as fast as possible.

Bordon had been only steps behind her. "Melanie! Stop!"

Meanwhile, William Tavington's head was spinning, as well. He was physically exhausted, but tired of his two colonials, Melanie and Wilkins, who he disparagingly called Yankees, questioning him. He watched as Miss Prescott's horse trotted away from their group.

Suddenly, and inexplicably, the colonel pointed his gun the direction of the fleeing Miss Prescott. It was already loaded and ready to go. The commander aimed, and in an instant a shot rang out from his pistol, tearing through the air toward the girl.

It hit her horse in the right back rump, effectively shooting the thing out from under her as soldiers were often taught to do when fighting in battle. The shot caused the beast to stop immediately, then rear up. As it did, Melanie fell backwards off the animal onto the hard ground, leaving her dazed. But before she could get up or move her body, the horse stumbled backwards then fell, tumbling as it did, and its heavy body rolled right over Miss Prescott, smashing her down for an instant. Melanie groaned in pain as she tried to get up from the ground.

"Oh God! Melanie!" Bordon screamed as he ran toward her. Alex wanted her to stay on the ground for a few moments to regain her bearings, but she was already fighting to stand up when he got to her. He helped her up the rest of the way, and could tell she was badly stunned.

The dizzy and confused girl could not stand up straight, near stumbling as she tried to walk. Bordon tried to grab her arm to steady her, but she waved him away, as if she was trying on her own to regain her stability.

The officer, noticing that her horse was in pain from the gunshot, aimed his pistol at the beast's head and pulled the trigger, putting the animal out of misery. After this, he looked up and spied Melanie still continuing to walk crookedly about.

The young woman continued to stagger about as she teetered in no certain direction. When her eyesight became clear and she remembered where she was and what had transpired, she could now see the church burning and hear the awful cries of pain coming from within. Her face contorted, as if she was on the verge of tears. Feeling desperate to get away from the haunting cries of death, she weaved a short way to the nearest horse—one of the villager's—that was tied to a nearby post.

Melanie climbed upon the horse before anyone realized what she was doing and took off again. She coaxed the horse on to gallop then run as fast as possible. The girl did not look back. The young woman just wanted to get away from there, the dying villagers, the misbehaving dragoons, and the misdeeds themselves as fast as she could!

"Barnes! Masters!," Tavington yelled at the two nearest privates, "Go after her. Do your best to catch up to her and escort her to the fort!"

Then he turned to Bordon just as the aide-de-camp was mounting his horse. "We will deal with her when we get back to the fort….tonight!"

----------------

**Author's note:** As seen near the end of this chapter, Colonel Tavington is quite "put out" with the two colonials, Captain Wilkins and Miss Prescott, for questioning his orders. He calls both of them "Yankees".

During the Revolutionary War in the colonies, "Yankee" was a disparaging term that the British used for colonials born in America to belittle them. _(from The Etymology Dictionary)_


	37. Chapter 37 Woefully Unexpected

Chapter 37 Woefully Unexpected

It was a little past sunset when Miss Prescott rode through the fort gates with Private Masters and Barnes in tow. She had no idea how long she'd been riding but had felt horribly since falling from the horse hours ago in Pembroke. All she wanted to do now was to get to her bedchambers and rest.

Dismounting, she was shaky and lightheaded the moment her feet hit solid ground. Melanie took a few steps to the veranda, where she stood for a moment, hanging on to a pillar hoping her dizziness would pass. When it didn't, the young woman took a deep breath, steadied herself as much as she could, and willed herself to walk the few steps into the house. She would think about the flights of stairs to her room on the third floor when she would get to the foot of those steps.

The girl took the steps into the house slowly, relieved to make it through the door. As she traipsed through the entryway and into the common room, her vision began to blur. The young woman leaned against the wall to steady herself, shaking her head as if to straighten up her eyesight and taking another deep breath. Melanie took a step away from the wall then doubled over in obvious discomfort, feeling a jab of pain in her abdomen and back.

After a moment, Miss Prescott made herself stand up straight again as she held her abdomen. She told herself that she felt sickly because she was famished and running on virtually no sleep. The girl again willed herself to walk forward, reasoning that when she made it to her room she would request some food to eat while she rested.

The young woman continued on, determined to make it to her room. But after a few more steps, the dizziness pounced on her again, followed by more blurred vision. Now unable to see clearly, Melanie felt sure she could find her way to the stairwell. The girl moved forward again, nearly stumbling into the drawing room. The girl stopped again, this time panting and out of breath after just a few steps.

Soon Miss Prescott resumed walking, or rather meandering in a lopsided manner through the room. Somehow she found her way into the large dining room, where General O'Hara sat alone of the table. He looked up from his paper work and last bit of food.

"Good Evening, Miss Prescott," he greeted. "I'll have the cooks bring food for you and the officers."

The girl didn't answer back; she hadn't heard him for the din of the blood pounding in her ears now. She continued trudging through the room in a sloppy zigzag.

The general watched her curiously for an instant, then stood in alarm. "Miss, are you alright? You don't look well at all." Indeed the girl's color was washed out and her eyes unfocused.

"Miss Prescott?" O'Hara asked again as he stepped from his place at the table. As the general rounded the long table, the girl suddenly collapsed. The man raced to where she lay on the floor.

"Good Lord!" he exclaimed as he knelt quickly next to the girl. She was unconscious for only a few seconds, then revived, letting out a moan of pain.

"I'm going to take you to your room," declared General O'Hara urgently as he looked down at the poor girl. As he picked her up, she groaned audibly.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, not sure what was wrong with the woman. "I'll get you to your bed as fast as I can!"

The strong general carried the girl up the first flight of steps. The bumping of her body while being carried up stairs, hurt with each step taken, causing her to wince.

As he rounded the second floor landing, General O'Hara caught sight of the servant, Bridget.

"Jesus, Mary, Joseph! What's wrong?!" she exclaimed, surprised to see the man carrying her friend.

"She collapsed in the dining room," he announced. The man continued talking to the servant as she now accompanied him up the next flight of stairs.

"She was stumbling about and didn't answer my questions," informed the general.

"Where are the dragoons?" Bridget asked.

"I don't know. She was alone," he answered. "It's strange."

Miss Kilpatrick stayed silent for a moment as the two mounted the third floor landing. The servant was worried for her friend; she was one of the few who knew the delicate state Miss Prescott was in.

The Irish servant slid past the general, getting in front of him to open the door to Melanie's bedchamber. Once in, he laid the girl on her neatly made bed, noticing her eyes were glassed over.

"I'll summon a doctor," he said as he made his way back toward the door.

"Please have some tea sent up as well," bade Miss Kilpatrick.

As the man closed the door behind him, Bridget began loosening the girl's clothing. She asked questions of her friend as she did.

"Are you by yourself? What happened? Where are the men?" The servant continued stripping the girl down, wanting her to be comfortable in bed in loose clothing.

Melanie could only groan, weakly fighting Bridget as she wrestled the girl's outer clothing off. "The horse," she whimpered, "The horse. I fell off the horse…..I fell…"

Once her dress was off and Miss Prescott stripped to her shift, the servant's eyes rounded at the sight of a noticeable blood stain on the shift where it fell between her legs. Bridget quickly moved to the bureau and found an oilcloth in one of the drawers. She ran to the bed and slid it beneath Melanie's aching body.

About that time, there was another knock on the door. "I've got tea for Miss Prescott," General O'Hara called through the door. "A surgeon is on his way—he had to be awakened."

Miss Kilpatrick left the ailing girl on the bed and went to the door. Opening the door a small space, she took the cup of tea from the man. "Please, General," she requested, "Please find a midwife, as well. She's nearly four months pregnant."

General O'Hara said nothing and left immediately in search of a midwife.

Melanie curled into a fetal position on top of the bed, still holding her middle. "Oh….Bridget!...Please!....It hurts!", Melanie moaned from the bed. Miss Kilpatrick joined the girl at the bed, grabbing her hand, attempting to comfort her ailing friend.

After what seemed an eternity, help arrived with first the military surgeon, then a colonial midwife from amongst the prisoner population. They found Miss Prescott writhing on the bed with hot, searing abdominal pain, groaning all the while as she clutched alternately her belly then the sheets. They went to work immediately upon the horrid sight of the growing blood stain on her shift and now the sheets.

**********************

The dragoons arrived back at Fort Carolina nearly ninety minutes past sunset. Major Bordon dismounted and gathered Miss Prescott's baggage which he'd retrieved from her dead horse at Pembroke. He headed straight to her room carrying the saddlebags, still quite upset with her recent display of impertinence. The officer wasn't sure what to do, but knew he'd have to deal with her public show of defiance and the embarrassment it caused him in front of his commander.

Once at Melanie's door he heard muffled noise. "Melanie?" he asked in a loud voice as he knocked.

Alexander waited a moment for her to answer. As he did, he heard moans coming from within her room. Alarmed, he knocked again and called through the door. "Melanie?! I'm coming in!"

The officer was startled to see a man he recognized as one of the surgeons and a rebel woman with Miss Prescott. His eyes became saucers when he saw Melanie groaning and writhing on the bed.

"What's wrong?!", he cried as he lunged toward the bed. "What's happening?!"

Miss Kilpatrick left the doctor and midwife, whom she had been assisting, to meet the concerned man. She nearly crashed into him as she spoke in a frantic voice. "You can't stay in here, Major! The doctor needs to work—"

"Let me see her!" Bordon pushed toward the bed with the Irish servant attempting to keep him back.

"Major, you can't!" Bridgett was losing the battle of keeping the insistent officer at bay.

"Get him out of here!," the surgeon ordered.

"I'm not leaving!", Alex insisted. "What is wrong with her?"

"Miss, please summon one of my medical staff," instructed the doctor. "Tell them to bring Laudanum or something else for the pain!"

Poor Miss Kilpatrick's head nearly spun off her shoulders between the confusion of her friend in pain, the surgeon shouting instructions, and trying to usher a rather strong officer out of the room. She was relieved when she saw General O'Hara come through the door an instant later.

The commander had come to check on the situation and stumbled upon the servant trying to push the dragoon leader back. He recognized immediately that she needed help and gave assistance.

"Major Bordon," the general addressed in a stern voice, "Desist, please, and that's an order."

Alex sighed and stopped struggling at his superior's command. "Come with me," said O'Hara, rushing from the room with Bordon in tow.

As they walked, the general imparted what he had experienced with the young woman in the dining room. O'Hara then suggested the dragoon aide-de-camp sit tight until things quieted down, assuring him that the surgeon would speak with when the situation was in control.

**************************

A couple of tense hours later, near Midnight, the major was summoned to the hallway outside of Miss Prescott's room. The surgeon was waiting for him, his apron bearing several fresh blood stains upon it.

"Are you responsible for the girl," the surgeon queried, in a near accusatory tone.

Bordon stared in shock at the crimson splotches on the doctor's clothing. Still in a haze, he answered, "What?"

"Are you the father of her child," asked the doctor.

"Yes," Alex answered shakily.

"Well I'm sorry, sir," he apologized. "She's had a miscarriage."

The major was dumbstruck. He sighed and closed his eyes as he tried to digest the news.

"I'm told she had an accident," the doctor continued, "Fell from a horse, was it?"

"Yes," Alexander answered, shaking his head numbly.

"Unfortunately this has taken quite a toll on the young lady's health," the surgeon began. "She did expel the fetus—a child, intact, but the thing was so mangled. And, in palpating her abdomen I could feel her womanly organs twisted and most likely scarred."

The doctor took a breath, then went on. "This is the worst miscarriage I've ever seen from the few that I've been privy to assist with. She bled profusely, which we were finally able to stop."

Alex leaned against the wall to hold himself up as he took in all that the doctor told him. The officer couldn't believe his ears. After all, it was just days ago that Melanie had told him of the pregnancy.

"I'm sorry, Major. This incident has left the girl's organs so messed up that the chance she will conceive again is small," the surgeon informed. He sighed and shook his head. "No. She won't be able to have any more children."

Bordon felt sick inside. He could scarcely believe how quickly everything had transpired. One day, Melanie was telling him she was with child. Another day, he caressed her slightly swollen abdomen with his hand. And now, he was being told that she'd lost the baby.

"We did all we could for her and the child," the doctor remarked. "She's very sick now with a high fever and pain. The girl is very weak. I have_ some_ hope that she will recover, but we will have to see what the next few hours and days bring."

Alex said nothing, numb and still astonished at the events. The dragoon second in command looked up at the surgeon and forced himself to speak. "When can I see her," he asked in a hoarse, nearly breaking voice.

"Soon," the medical officer answered. "She is stable. We'll call for you once we've cleaned up and she is settled."

With that, the doctor turned and walked back into the room, leaving Bordon outside in the hallway, alone in mind spinning confusion.


	38. Chapter 38 Somber Circumstances

Chapter 38 Somber Circumstances

Major Bordon leaned against the wall for another moment, taking in all that the surgeon had just told him. _"Oh God," he thought to himself sadly, "what about Melanie? What will she do? What will she think? She will be devastated. She wanted family some day. My God!"_

He closed his eyes and swallowed hard as the doctor's words echoed through his head.  
_"She's in a lot of pain…she lost a lot of blood….she's very weak….It doesn't look good….I don't know if she will make it….the girl's already been near to death before……her scarred body may not hold up against this."_

Alexander suddenly saw Melanie in his mind, at Pembroke, running toward her horse. _"Melanie! Melanie!" he recalled himself shouting after her, wanting her to stop, angry at the girl for defying him._ The officer felt heartsick now at how cross he had been with her. He regretted it, longing to take back the momentary anger and self pride he felt and replace it with concern and protection for her.

After another moment, Alex felt sick to his stomach. The aide-de-camp recalled more of the horrid scene as it haunted him. _He saw Tavington stretch his arm out, aiming his gun. Then a gunshot. Then the horse fell. Then the horse rolled over Melanie's supine, helpless, pregnant body. Then his own screams. "Melanie! Oh God Melanie!"_

Confusion reigned still over the distraught officer_. How? Why? I don't understand. She was able to get up after the fall. Melanie got up after that animal tumbled on her! She rode away! She made it to the fort! Why? This can't be! She was fine! She got up! She rode again!_

The memory refused to leave. _The gunshot. The horse rearing. Melanie falling. Melanie helpless and stunned on the ground. The heavy beast rolling over her._

Bordon shook his head as if trying to shake loose the terrible thoughts. Instead, the most dreaded one continued to hang on. His mind's eye saw it a few more times, each time more slowly than the preceding one, as if to accent it and make it worse; and more evil. _Colonel Tavington stretches his arm, taking aim at Melanie. He pulls the trigger of his pistol. A shot rings out. The horse rears. Melanie falls. The animal barreling over her poor body._

Alex was breathing hard when the fog of the memories finally lifted. His body had become rigid with anger, trembling slightly. The officer's eyes narrowed with determination and cold thoughts. _"Someone has to pay for this. Someone has to pay for Melanie's pain."_ With thoughts askew and anger possessing the man, Alexander Bordon's legs were soon moving on their own, off in pursuit of recompense.

***********************

William Tavington sat on the veranda relaxing in the cool night air, sipping a glass of wine. He was wrapping up the evening after having written his report of the last week's events in the villages of St. George, Pembroke, and activities along the Santee River homes and plantations. The dragoon commander had just drained the last drop of his drink and was ready to rise and seek his bed when he felt the point of a sword at his throat.

The colonel looked up, directly in to the face of his second in command. He noticed that Bordon had an icy look on his face mixed with eyes narrowed in anger. The subordinate seemed strangely calm.

"Draw a last breath before I run you through," Alex advised in an eerily controlled voice.

William rose slowly from his seat, the sword point never relaxed and ever touching his collar as he moved. "You're quite insubordinate," the colonel said at first in a wry voice.

In an instant his demeanor turned to deadly seriousness as he drew his own sword. "You dare challenge me, Bordon."

The subordinate did not answer, nor did he release the pressure of the sword against his superior's neck. Instead, he pushed forward slightly, nudging his commander with sword drawn as well down off the porch and into an opening on the grass in front of the house.

Alex eased and honorably let his commander ready himself. He spoke as Tavington raised his sword in response to Bordon.

"You caused Melanie's miscarriage," he accused coldly, "You killed my child."

The colonel had heard the rumors of Miss Prescott's misfortune, already making their way around the fort. "Don't you have that backwards," Tavington answered equally as cool and just as much in control.

"No," Bordon insisted. "This is your fault. You shot the horse and caused her fall."

"If you'd have kept your woman under control then she wouldn't have run," Tavington countered, his voice raised slightly. "I was forced to take drastic actions."

With that, the two began sparring, jabbing at each other with the instruments. Both were skilled fencers, the actions against one another in balance. The clanking of metal and hurling of boisterous insults and accusations at each other soon drew a crowd.

After a couple of moments, Bordon was able to knock the weapon from Tavington's hands and run the man face first into a solid part of the porch railing. He had superhuman strength as he held his commander against the wall with his forearm and drew his pistol with the other. He pressed the gun to Tavington's head.

"You are going to be the one to tell her!" Bordon shouted angrily.

"Tell her what," William asked as he struggled against his subordinate's strong grip.

"That it's your fault," Alex answered, his voice cracking slightly. "That your actions have caused her to never be able to bear children."

William stopped struggling for the moment, closed his own eyes and cringed. He winced inwardly as well, never wanting to hurt this woman that he secretly held affection for. The colonel did not think at the time that his actions would turn out to harm the pregnant girl. He reacted quickly out of training, knowing to shoot the horse out from under a rider to hinder them.

Out of Tavington's own arrogance and pride, he said nothing and admitted the same. Instead he found the strength to turn himself about, push his attacker back and lunge for his grounded sword. He raised the weapon again, once again challenging his adjutant.

As the two officers dueled, Lord Cornwallis suddenly appeared on the house's veranda with two very important people behind him. He had been in the library most of the evening entertaining these two representatives from the British government who'd made the voyage over recently to witness the war first hand. They'd just finished a late dinner and drinks when interrupted by the commotion.

The Lord General was at first mortified by the actions of his officers. But the embarrassment soon turned to fury. His guests were mute, not knowing what to say or think of the situation before them.

Cornwallis soon caught sight of his adjutant O'Hara and waved him over. "Break that up," he ordered into his ear, "And bring them to my office immediately!"

"Yes sir!"

General O'Hara broke up the fight just as the Lord General ushered his guests away, making apologies all the while.

Moments later, a furious Cornwallis entered his office where the three officers were already waiting for him. He heaved a frustrated sigh.

"Damn it," he swore. "I thought I had enough trouble with Tarleton and Hanger and their bunch, always in trouble with drinking and gambling. And now I have you two fighting!"

The Lord General sat down at his desk, folded his hands and glared at the two dragoon officers in disgust. "So? What is the problem?"

Both officers stayed silent, not wishing to divulge the cause to their superior. Cornwallis rolled his eyes. "Well? Speak up!"

"Major Bordon seems to think that I caused Miss Prescott's miscarriage."

"You SHOT the horse out from under her! The beast fell on her!"

"If she wouldn't have run—"

"Enough! Enough!" Cornwallis snorted. After a moment of silence passed, the general spoke again. "Once again it seems that a certain young woman has caused trouble amongst my officers."

The general paused then continued. "Major Bordon, you questioned months ago after one of Miss Prescott's many escape attempts if she was really worth all the trouble she caused. I now wonder the same thing myself."

The Lord General got up from his desk and took a couple of steps toward the window. After looking out at the night sky, he looked back at the quiet officers. "Now, I understand that young men such as yourselves have needs but your absolute priority needs to be victory. Your minds must be set on winning this war. Women and all else are second—a very DISTANT second!"

He shot a hard look at his officers silently telling them that he meant every word he said. "I'm inclined to send Miss Prescott away. She seems to be such a distraction. Perhaps the arrangements should be reevaluated."

Bordon panicked, but tried to conceal as much of it as possible. "Sir, please—"

"No!," Cornwallis cut him off sharply. "All of your minds need to be on battle. No more disruptions!"

General Cornwallis sighed wearily, then went on. "Now, I will expect the two of you to settle any future disputes as gentlemen, and in a less disruptive fashion. If I catch this again, you will be stripped of your command. Is that clear?"

"Yes, my lord," Tavington answered dutifully.

Bordon did not answer; he was preoccupied thinking about Melanie. He worried about her health at the moment, then wondered if the Lord General would make good on his threat to send her away.

"Is that understood, Major?" Cornwallis asked as he cleared his throat.

"Yes, sir."

Just then, there was a knock on the door. O'Hara let Miss Kilpatrick poke her head into the office where she motioned for Major Bordon to join her at the door.

"You may see Miss Prescott now," she said. "She's settled in a bit."

With that, the Major quickly disappeared with the Irish servant. Colonel Tavington slipped out not far behind them.

"Colonel O'Hara," began Lord Cornwallis after the officers had adjourned, "I think we should write to General Clinton and ask him to restore Miss Prescott's plantation back to her possession. I'm no longer willing to deal with the trouble that seems to surround the young woman. The sooner we get her out of here, the better."

***********************************

Alex watched Melanie as she slept, though not restfully. She seemed to stir every few moments or so, uttering a sigh or pained groan. He would sponge her face once in awhile with a cool cloth, and caress her cheek with his hand.

Whenever it looked like she would awaken, he'd whisper, "It's Alex, darling. I'm here. You're alright."

He looked at his pocket watch, seeing by the candlelight that it was after four in the morning. The officer rubbed his eyes and sighed as he looked forlornly upon the woman he loved so much. As he continued to stare intently at the girl, Colonel Tarleton stole quietly into the room.

"Ah, Bordy," Banastre said in a quiet voice, "I heard what happened to her. I'm sorry, old boy."

"Thank you. How are you doing?"

"Much better now," Colonel Tarleton answered as he pulled a chair near Bordon. "I'm sure I'll be back on my horse soon. I couldn't sleep any longer. I thought I'd keep you company for awhile."

"Thanks," Bordon replied.

"How is she?"

"Not good, sir," Alex answered sadly with a shake of his head. "She lost the child. But worse, the doctor says she won't be able to have any more children."

"Oh no," Banastre lamented.

"To be honest," Alexander began, "I had my doubts as to whether our love affair would last much beyond the end of this war. In all reality, I will have to go home to England and she would stay here."

"Not necessarily," Tarleton pointed out. "You could arrange for her to join you in England as your mistress."

"I couldn't," Bordon said. "It's bad enough that I've made her into a whore here. And if she regains her plantation back from His Majesty, then she will need to stay here to run it."

The major sighed, then continued. "In a way, I'm relieved that she is no longer pregnant and that I won't have a by blow with her. But, I am so sad for her. Even though things may not last between us, I still want her to have a chance at a future with someone else and to have a family with whoever that lucky man would be."

"Good Lord," Tarleton acknowledged, "If she wants a child that badly she will be able to go to any orphanage and get all that she wants—war seems to leave an awful lot of orphans."

"Or for that matter," continued Ban, "she is so wealthy she could buy a baby from some unfortunate strumpet that can't afford the child."

His fellow dragoon's words did not make Alex feel any better. "This if my fault."

"No it's not," Banastre disagreed. "These things just happen."

"I should have begged Colonel Tavington to let her stay here."

"Bordon, suppose the miscarriage didn't happen," Ban mused, "and suppose she did have the baby. And suppose you went home to England. Then what would she do alone and with a by blow?"

"She has money," Alex said, reaching for some kind of justification.

"Come now," countered Tarleton. "We both know that all the money in the world is no substitute for a proper family or the child's father. And no exorbitant amount can buy the child out of the lifelong title of 'bastard'. That child will always be illegitimate no matter what."

"Though sad and unfortunate as this miscarriage is," Colonel Tarleton continued, "Maybe it is a blessing in disguise for both of you."

*************************

Mid afternoon the next day, Bridget Kilpatrick sat with her friend, Miss Prescott, as the girl awoke from resting. The doctor had checked on her a few hours ago, informing her of the miscarriage and grim prognosis for children in the future. The girl had not taken it well, requested to be left alone, then promptly cried herself to sleep.

Miss Kilpatrick was told that Melanie had been made known of her condition. It was then that Bridget had decided that she should be there for her friend whenever she should awake, knowing that the young girl would need support. She checked in on the young woman, found her sleeping, and positioned herself quietly at the side of her bed, waiting for her to awaken.

The Irish servant smiled with relief as the young woman's eyelids fluttered open. She took her hand and spoke softly to her. "How are you feeling, dear?"

"There's some pain," Melanie replied, "but it's tolerable."

"Are you hungry?"

"No. I feel sick."

"You must try and eat something to help you regain your strength," advised Miss Kilpatrick.

Just then, there was a knock at the door. As Bridget moved toward the door, Melanie sank back into her pillow and closed her eyes. She was deeply depressed, feeling like she was now "damaged merchandise", ruined for life and future with any man. And although she knew her friend Bridget meant well and was concerned for her, Melanie wished she would leave her alone, at least for awhile.

Miss Prescott opened her eyes when she felt her Irish friend at her side again.

"It's the major," she announced in a gentle voice. "He's anxious to see you."

"Send him away," Melanie requested, her voice cracking.

"He's worried about you."

"I don't want to see him."

"Melanie," coaxed Miss Kilpatrick, "He deserves to see you. And you are too weak to fight with me over this."

Miss Prescott sighed and looked away.

"Look," began Bridgett, "I'll let the two of you visit alone for a few moments, then I'll come back and check in. If at that time you are too tired to go on or want him to leave, then I'll usher him out."

Melanie said nothing back to indicate if the arrangement was alright. Her friend was insistent, leaving the ailing girl to do nothing but sigh.

The young woman closed her eyes again, hearing Bridgett leave. She also heard her lover enter the room just as quietly. Melanie opened her eyes slowly when she felt Alexander's lips brush her cheek.

"I love you," he whispered, then touched her hand.

Miss Prescott said nothing. She didn't know whether to be stoic, force a smile, or cry.

"How do you feel today?" asked Alex as he seated himself in the chair by her bedside.

"Sick," she answered in a cold and quiet voice.

"Do you remember me sitting with you last night?"

"Partially."

With that, an awkward and heavy silence passed between the two. Bordon wasn't sure what to say or do; whether to comfort her or throw himself at her feet and beg forgiveness. Melanie just wanted him to leave.

Alex finally broke the silence. "I'm so sorry about all of this," he stated slowly and cautiously.

"You have no worries anymore," Melanie said in her weak voice, yet with a sharp edge to the tone. "You don't have to take care of a bastard child."

"Oh, Melanie," he cried, shaking his head in disappointment at her words.

"Or take care of a mistress, for that matter," she added cruelly. "You can go home now."

"What?"

"You can go back to England," she stated in a shaky voice, "free and with no obligations."

"Melanie, I said I would not abandon you."

"You're not. I'm cutting you loose."

Alex didn't understand. He began to protest, "I love you—"

"Don't! Please don't!" Melanie cut him off sharply as she began to cry.

Major Bordon was at a loss for words. He could do nothing but stare at Melanie's weeping form in disbelief. A knock at the door soon brought him out of his trance.

Miss Kilpatrick breezed in only to find her distraught friend crying and the officer now standing helplessly near the bed wringing his hands.

She tried to comfort the helpless officer. "Sir, she has been through a lot. She is sad and emotional and may be for a few days or weeks."

The Irish servant took his arm gently and moved him toward the door. "Give her some time."

Alex nodded in mute acknowledgement of her words. He felt badly, not knowing what to do to make things better.

"Major," she said, trying to bring him out of his haze of confusion, "Lieutenant Kidwell is waiting in the hallway for you."

Before he disappeared through the door, Bridgett called to him from his lover's bedside. "Sir, she _will_ get over this," she assured him.

He nodded and closed the door. Once in the hallway, the officer was met by young Kidwell.

"Sir, there are visitors waiting for you downstairs," the junior officer informed. "I'll escort you there."

"Thank you."

In a moment, the pair of dragoons entered the drawing room of the main house. A woman turned around to face the men.

"Alexander!" she cried in an English accent as she walked toward him, grabbing both his hands, then planting a kiss on his cheek. A young boy of about five clung to her skirts.

Major Bordon was taken aback by the visitor, stunned for the moment. He looked at Lieutenant Kidwell, who stood in the doorway with a look of thorough confusion on his face.

"Uh….uh… Lieutenant Kidwell," he began, trying to regain his composure, "this is my wife, Mrs. Paulette Bordon. And that's my son, Henry."


	39. Chapter 39 The Breaking Point

Chapter 39 The Breaking Point 

"Hello, Miss Prescott. How are you feeling?", Colonel Tavington greeted as he entered the ailing girl's room. It was nearly two days into Mrs. Bordon's visit, and William had not heard whether or not his subaltern had been able to visit his mistress or not during the time. For some strange reason, the commander felt compelled to visit the young woman, as if in her lover's stead.

"The same," Melanie replied pushing herself up slowly and sorely into a sitting position. "Weak still."

There was quiet as the young woman took a minute to adjust her pillow. Reaching behind her seemed to hurt, and the officer could see that she was struggling. He reached over to help her get situated. When she eased and seemed to rest comfortably back, he continued on.

"Uh……I gave the major an assignment," William apologized hesitantly, feeling he had to make an excuse for his aide-de-camp. "He may be away for awhile."

The girl looked up at the ceiling and let out a heavy sigh. "You don't have to lie, colonel. I know his wife is here."

"Oh," he answered somewhat taken aback. He had assumed that Bordon and the rest of the fort was keeping it a secret from her. "How did you know?"

"Voices carry down the hallway," replied Miss Prescott in a far away voice.

"Oh….I'm sorry," Tavington stammered, again not knowing what to say.

"So am I," she agreed in a forlorn tone.

"I believe it is an unexpected visit, if that makes you feel better," remarked William hopeful that this would alleviate some of her apparent yet unspoken doubt.

"No. It doesn't," said the young woman, her voice flat and lifeless now.

"I'm sorry. I didn't wish to lie—just to shield you," apologized the colonel. "I thought it might be better if you didn't know of it during your recovery."

"I understand. Please, I don't want to talk about it," Melanie declared, fighting back tears, trying half heartedly to be stoic.

She became silent for a moment, which made the dragoon commander feel awkward. The thought of exiting now and cutting the visit short flashed across his mind.

Miss Prescott broke the silence. "Colonel Tavington, may I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"A few days ago at one of the houses you raided on the Santee, there was a mother and son.," she stated, recalling in her mind the red haired woman and the small, curly headed boy with the same flame hued hair.

"Yes," Tavington recollected.

"Did you shoot them?"

"Miss Prescott, it's not appropriate to talk of dragoon bus—"

"Yes, Alex tells me that, as well", she cut him off. "You seem to forget that I was there."

"You were blindfolded," he reminded her.

"I heard everything you and your men did," Melanie pointed out. "My mind put its own pictures with the sounds."

"I'd rather not discuss this with you," Tavington stated.

The girl continued on, affirming her feelings of the situation to him. "I witnessed what you did in Pembroke. I can imagine what you did at other places."

The dragoon commander was tiring quickly of her interrogation. He shifted in his seat, leaning forward and looking intently at her. "Just what do you want to know?"

"Did you shoot that woman and her little boy?"

Colonel Tavington paused a moment before answering, wondering if he should confirm what she suspected. He took a breath, then answered her query.

"Yes. They were uncooperative."

"Oh," commented the girl, with surprisingly little emotion. The young woman shifted in the bed slightly and looked toward the window.

The officer broke the contemplative silence with a question of his own. "Why? Why did you have to know that?"

"I just needed to know if you killed them."

"_Needed_ to know?", asked Will sarcastically. "You mean 'you _wanted_ to know'."

"Yes—I wanted to know what happened," admitted Miss Prescott. "I'm sure they were innocent."

"They were rebels."

"No," she disagreed. "They were like me—innocent victims of this nonsense."

"They were uncooperative and withheld information," the colonel pointed out firmly. "And they most likely helped the rebels at one time or another."

"You assume," she shot back smartly.

"Pick your fights with Bordon, Miss Prescott—not me!," scolded William, his irritation with her now showing through.

The two were quiet again, both frustrated with one another. After a minute, Tavington spoke up again, hoping his answer would stifle anymore intrusive questions about dragoon procedures.

"Yes. I killed them both," he acknowledged.

"Nonsense. The shots were too close together. You _couldn't_ have reloaded that fast," insisted Melanie. "Did Alex shoot one of them?"

"No."

"You're lying again."

"Please don't make me answer the question," insisted the officer. "You won't like it."

"Just tell me," she prodded.

William sighed, still quite irked at the girl. "Yes, Major Bordon killed one of them," Tavington confessed. "He and I raised our pistols at nearly the same time. I will not tell you which one either of us shot."

Melanie was thoughtful for a moment, not at all startled by the revelation that her lover killed a probable innocent colonist. In two years, she had witnessed the gamut of things perpetrated by dragoon officers reaching from one end of the scale to the other.

Miss Prescott spoke up again. "Colonel, when the rebels captured me, then hobbled me, there was a man in the camp who took care of me. He was a colonial minister…….from Pembroke. That must have been his church you burned down. And that must have been his congregation—"

"Must you bring things like this up?"

Melanie shot him a look of surprise, then disgust. Her mind spun, not so much astonished at the performed atrocities, but that the officer was so peevish when asked about it after no hesitation or blink of an eye at the time the gun had been raised.

The girl sighed and shook her head. "When this war is over, I hope I never, ever see another soldier for as long as I live."

Tavington had lost patience now and was tired of playing this game with the ailing girl. "Stop it! Quarrel with Bordon—it's _his_ wife that's here! _He's_ the one that made a whore of you, not me!"

"Oh! So you forget _who_ took advantage of _who_ one certain time whilst Bordon was away?," she defended. "You wasted no time getting under my skirt."

"You seduced me to get back at him! You didn't even give me a moment to refuse your advances!"

"You and Alex are just alike!," the young woman retorted, "taking advantage of any woman near you no matter what the situation is!"

"At least I had restraint enough not to make you my mistress," William shot back.

"You wanted to!"

"Yes! I did," the officer admitted.

"But Alex beat you to my bed," she reminded. "You can't stand that!"

Colonel Tavington did not answer her accusation, but instead countered with one of his own. "You've had me _and_ Bordon. You've probably been in Tarleton's bed as well."

Melanie gasped, aghast at the sinister turn in the conversation from what began as a friendly visit. The girl suddenly felt sick and shaky, realizing that the depression and need for blame had caused her to start a fight out of spite and her own need to vent her despair.

"No," she answered his accusation in a quiet tone fraught with embarrassment. "I've only been with you and Alex….and look what it's done." With that, she dissolved into tears.

"I didn't wish to fight with you," William apologized. "I came here to sit with you. I feel badly over everything that has transpired and am sorry that you're hurt—"

She interrupted him. "I appreciate you coming to visit, but I'd rather be alone. I'm tired."

A painful moment of quiet passed between the two again, neither knowing what to say. Melanie spoke again.

"Please….just…..I wish everyone would leave me alone," she stammered. "I don't want to see anyone, least of all Alex."

"I understand," the colonel acquiesced. "But Major Bordon is very worried about you, as many others are."

"Worried……" she echoed, then added, "And gossiping, I'm sure."

"That shouldn't be anything new to you!," William remarked with no hesitation. "Why is this situation any different?"

His words caused the girl to cry harder. It hurt her to have it confirmed that there was idle talk of her tragedy.

Realizing now how bad his words sounded, he apologized right away. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said—"

He was interrupted by her tearful lament. "I've lost my child! I'll never have another one and I'll never have Alex!"

"Oh, Miss….," his voice trailed off, unsure of what to say; how to comfort the poor girl.

"Please, colonel," she implored through sobs, "just leave me."

The officer nodded simply, saying nothing. He instantly left the room, leaving the girl alone in her sorrow.

**************************

Bordon and his wife had passed an uneasy couple of days together. Fortunately for Alex, the afternoon that she arrived, he had been scheduled to lead a night patrol and was out, leaving Paulette and his son the bed in his cramped quarters.

Out of concern for Melanie, he did not visit her during his wife's stay, not wanting to worry the girl during her recovery. He was also afraid that Mrs. Bordon might follow him to Miss Prescott's room and that there would be a confrontation.

This particular evening, little Henry Bordon was being entertained by some officers at the request of Paulette so that she and Alex could spend some time alone. She could tell that her husband, who hadn't said much, was clearly uncomfortable with her. The woman wanted desperately to relieve the uneasiness as they sat alone in the major's quarters.

"I've missed you. So has Henry," Paulette Bordon said tentatively.

"He doesn't even know me," Alex retorted in a curt tone.

"He would if you were around. He needs his father."

Alex dispensed with the cordial conversation and cut right to the point. "Why did you come?"

"I want you to come home," she requested.

"That's out of the question," Alex replied. "The generals would never permit me to leave during this campaign."

"Then why not allow us to move in here with you?"

"There's no room."

"But there's room for your mistress!," Paulette shot back.

Alexander said nothing back to her, not wanting to alert her of Melanie or give her any reason to go looking for his recovering concubine.

"I've heard the talk," Mrs. Bordon remarked.

"I don't have to confirm anything to you," the officer said crossly.

"Yes you do," she argued. "I'm your wife!"

"Only in name," Alex whispered to himself after he'd turned away from the woman.

She walked to him and placed a gentle hand on his arm, making him turn to look at her. "I know we did not have a good start to our marriage, but I want us to reconcile," she began. "If we try, we can make a fresh start of it. I'm begging you to reconsider. Please come home so that we can be a family."

Paulette stepped away from him, looking sadly at the floor. "Being the subject of gossip is horrible for Henry and me. It's disgraceful enough that you have taken a mistress and people know, but having to make up excuses as to why we don't reside together is embarrassing. Think of our son—"

Her pleading was met with the hardness of anger in his face. "Just stop this! We both know this marriage is in name only. I don't love you. I felt some affection for you at first that might have grown, but you ruined that when you trapped me into marriage."

"I didn't become pregnant by myself," she defended. "You shouldn't have taken me to bed."

"You shouldn't have enticed me into it! A lady wouldn't have spread her legs!"

"Alexander! You're Horrid!," she interjected, tears in her eyes.

Major Bordon grabbed her arm and pinioned her to the wall. "You knew that if you got your bellyful that I'd have to marry you. You wasted no time helping yourself to my family's name, money, and social position!"

"No! I did _not_ plan it," Paulette affirmed. "I tried to be a good wife when we were together. You could have tried a little harder to be a husband and enjoy it."

"You destroyed my trust before we married—"

Still pinned to the wall, his wife looked up at him with pleading in her eyes. "Can't you forgive?"

"No, I don't think so," answered Alex as he let go of her. The officer gave her a menacing look as he continued on. "You see, I think of you as a whore. You used me for money and advancing the social standing of yourself and your family."

"I did love you! I still do," she insisted resolutely.

"Don't," the officer warned in disdain.

There was quiet now as each of them caught a breath after the heated exchange. Paulette was desperate to reconcile and have a normal life with her husband.

Mrs. Bordon spoke again, breaking the silence. "If you won't come home," she began tentatively, "will you at least give me another child?"

"Absolutely not. You have enough from me now as it is," answered the officer. "And I don't care to share a bed with you."

"Then I'll take a lover and have another man do the job!," she shot back, trying hard to be as cruel as he was to her back to him. She wanted to hurt him.

"That's fine," the major said, walking sinisterly toward her, scaring her enough to make her step backwards away from him. "But I won't claim it. You'll disgrace yourself and the family."

Another painful silence passed between the quarreling couple, frustration weighing heavily on each of them. After a moment more of this passed, Mrs. Bordon spoke up, changing her tone, letting his last cruel assertion pass without comment.

"Alex, please forgive me. Come home. Help me raise Henry."

Alex sighed and turned away from Paulette. She moved slowly toward him and lightly touched his shoulder. He spun instantly around to her, their faces now very close. She leaned in to kiss him sensuously, but he was cold and did not kiss back, staring blankly at her. But she did not let that deter her. His wife moved her lips along the skin of his face, grazing it lightly with kisses, then began to nibble his neck. The woman reached down and caressed his manhood through his breeches as she breathed on his skin. He grabbed her hand to stop her, partly because he had no sexual desire for her in his heart, and because he was afraid that physically, his body might betray him.

As he held her hands steady, she stared him directly in the eyes as if to let him know she was not afraid and would not give up on him. Paulette then knelt down on her knees before him, humbling herself, yet preparing to and knowing that she could weaken him and break the officer down. She was determined to get her husband into bed and make him to leave his seed within her.

Mrs. Bordon then began to undo his pants with both hands. He took hold firmly of her wrists stopping her. He looked down at her with light scorn. "Don't."

Paulette pulled her hands from his grip and looked up at her husband. She gave him her best alluring gaze. "Let me," she pleaded lustily.

She inched his britches down slightly and took his flaccid penis into her mouth. She worked it within as seductively as she could then smiled when she succeeded in bringing on an involuntary erection.

Though he felt no affection for the woman, he enjoyed the feeling of someone going down on him, and let her continue. An audible sigh escaped Alexander's lips, much to his chagrin. Although the thought of relations with her no longer aroused him, his body reacted to her ministrations out of habit, exactly what he did not want to happen.

Before he could get any further along, he stopped her then violently jerked her up off the floor. The officer then bent her forward roughly over his bed's footboard. Surprised, she gasped, then willingly raised her skirt, bearing her bottom to him.

"Yes, Alex! Please! Now!," she cried.

Her husband pushed his fingers into her, causing a pent up groan to be released. Paulette soon gripped the wood with both hands, securing himself for their imminent, and hopefully lusty coupling. As he did this, Bordon spotted his jacket, gloves, and riding crop thrown onto the bed. He stretched to reach them.

The movement of his fingers in her womanhood felt so good to her as it had been months since she'd had a man. It left her begging for him. "Alex PLEASE! I want you inside me now darling! It's been so long."

Her pleadings were answered with the sudden feeling of a sharp stinging pain across the back of her thighs when the crop met with them.

"Oh no!" she wailed in surprise as she struggled to push herself up.

As she did, his free hand pushed her back down hard against the wood, making her wince.

"Alex, please don't!" she implored.

As she protested, he raised his arm then struck her bare bottom with the crop, hard and sharp, making her jump.

"No! Stop!" cried Paulette, tears in her eyes as she was not sure now what this may be leading to.

Fortunately, this was the end of the whipping, making Mrs. Bordon ease. After a moment, she let out a breath, then begged for him again. "Please Alex! Put yourself inside of me."

With that, he turned the riding crop around, gripping the middle of it above the handle on the whip end. He pushed the rough leather handle of the crop up into her womanly wetness.

"No! No! Alex. Please!"

Her husband leaned over and whispered ominously into her ear. ""There you go. Now cry out like the whore that you are," he degraded. He moved the instrument in and out of her, making her wince.

After a moment, he withdrew the crop and let it drop to the floor. He then pushed his pants down slightly and drove himself hard into her slickened womanhood.

His wife moaned and cooed in relief to finally feel him again within her. "Oh, God Alex! That's it! Oh don't stop!"

As Major Bordon moved himself in and out of her, he closed his eyes, trying to pretend she was just some doxy from one of the tents. He started to get lost to the feeling, warmth traversing his hips as it did.

Paulette began heaving herself back against him, coaxing him on toward orgasm, needing his fertile seed to fill her up. She relished feeling his hardness inside her again and didn't want it to end.

Alex opened his eyes as he felt himself getting close to satisfaction. With utmost discipline, he stopped himself and pulled out of her.

"No, what are you doing?, "she protested, "Don't stop, Alex, please!"

With his erection still slick with her womanly lubrication, he slid himself into her anus, making the poor woman cry out. "Oh no. Alex no! It hurts!"

"But you should like it this way," he jeered as he pushed painfully into her. "This is how whores want it done to them. They want it rough!"

He continued on, with the tightness of her in that area bringing him close in only a few more strokes. "Go ahead and cry out, you whore! Say that you like it!"

She could not. All the woman could do was whimper at the invasion and bear it as best she could. Paulette closed her eyes and prayed that he would satisfy his need soon.

A few seconds later, Alexander groaned as he came. He pulled himself out, still panting, and quickly pushed his now spent manhood back down into his breeches.

Mrs. Bordon pushed her skirt down then collapsed in a heap on the floor at the officer's feet. She wept in degradation and sadness, her hopes for a happy reunion with her estranged husband severely dashed.

Major Bordon did nothing to comfort the woman. "Go home," he simply said.

As he stepped away, Paulette looked pitifully up at him. "Please don't send me home," she sobbed.

"There is a stage tomorrow afternoon," stated Bordon. "You will be on it."

*******************

With Melanie's miscarriage now a few days behind her, the midwife had advised that she could now get out of bed for short periods of time to sit or walk about her room. This afternoon she sat at her window upon the window bed, relaxing and taking in what view she could, much of it blocked by a large tree near the house.

The girl was still very weak, and feeling a little pain and cramping from her miscarriage. Mostly, she was sad and confused. She was still reeling from the revelation that she would never bear children, and from the loss of Bordon's baby. The young woman wondered if things in her life could ever be 'normal' again, and when the damned war would end.

But amidst her depression, she managed a small smile and perked up a bit when she saw Alexander appear across the courtyard below. And although she had told Bridget that she didn't want to see him, she _had_ missed him, and hoped he would visit her soon. She sat up even straighter and her heart raced when she saw him striding across the green toward the house. _Maybe he is coming to see me, she thought._

Melanie saw him stop short of the house and could see him talking to someone, but the tree obscured her view. She then saw Alex reach out, and through the foliage, she saw a pretty woman take his arm. Miss Prescott watched the scene in confusion.

Next she saw a young boy hug Major Bordon's legs as the man leaned over and kissed the top of his head. A moment later, Melanie saw Alex embrace the woman and give her a very chaste looking kiss. She surmised that this must be Paulette Bordon and became disappointed that her lover's wife was still present.

Miss Prescott continued to watch, though she knew she should just close the curtains and get back into bed. Still watching intently out the window, she saw the woman part from Alexander's side. Then suddenly the woman flew back to the officer, throwing her arms around him, kissing him passionately and hanging on to his body for a moment. She could see his wife whispering something in his ear and dabbing at tears on her cheeks.

With this, Melanie's heart sank. She looked away from the window, no longer wanting to see anymore of the scene. Her mind spun crazily with questions and assumptions. _Did he lie to me of his feelings for her? No—he wouldn't have lied. Maybe they reconciled? Maybe he does really love Paulette? What if he does love her? Maybe he doesn't love me after all. _

Her heart breaking, Melanie broke down in heaving sobs. This was it for the poor girl—she had reached her breaking point. The girl's mind continued to spin itself in circles. Miss Prescott had lost her beloved family and her plantation had been confiscated. She herself had nearly been killed. The rebels had captured her, flogged, humiliated and raped her. The British flaunted her and used her in their schemes. She'd fallen in love with a married man, becoming his mistress. She'd suffered a painful miscarriage and could now never conceive again. With no hope for more children, it lessened the chance of marriage with any future suitor. And now to top it all off, her lover, after making her pregnant, had abandoned her and returned to his wife.

This was too much for Melanie to bear. She continued to sob, unable to stop, feeling physically sick to her stomach. But after a few minutes more of weeping, she became exhausted and could no longer cry. She sat quietly still in the window bed looking blankly about the room, her mind numb now. Strangely, the young woman felt a cold quiet in her soul, as if she had turned to stone.

**********************

Major Bordon forced a cordial smile and wave at the carriage as he watched it take his wife and child away, done as an act for all that watched him across the courtyard. His wife's last words, which she had whispered to him while clinging to his body before leaving, rang through his mind. _"Please don't make us leave. Please reconsider. I do love you, Alex," she murmured in desperation to him._ He simply replied back to her softly, "No. There's no use for you to stay," causing more tears from his wife, but he was not swayed by her weeping and pleading.

As the coach disappeared through the fort gate, the officer breathed a sigh of relief. He smiled to himself as he could finally now pay Melanie a visit, and he could not wait; Alex had missed the girl terribly and needed to see for himself how she fared. As he stepped on to the porch intending to head straight to Miss Prescott's room, he was stopped by a messenger.

"General O'Hara requests your presence," the private announced.

"I was just heading to check on something," replied the major. "Can it wait?"

"No sir. He asked for you to come to his office immediately."

"Oh, bloody Hell," he swore in a low voice.

"I'm on my way," he told the private, heading now to meet with the general and disappointed that his visit to Melanie would have to wait.

************************

Miss Prescott, having been seated still on the window bed, rose unsteadily to her feet, wincing as she did. She stood still for a moment to get her bearings, feeling just a little dizzy and weak. After a few seconds had passed, the girl took a few tentative steps across her room. When the young woman arrived at her bureau, she opened a box that had been left atop it by the doctor.

The surgeon, often occupied with soldiers in the tent, could not necessarily drop what he was doing and rush to the third floor of the main house to attend to a sick, miscarried woman, so he'd left some fresh dressings, medicine and herbs for sleep and recurrent bleeding in this makeshift kit so that Bridget could take care of Melanie in his stead. Left also, packed discreetly into the bottom of the box, were three glass vials of the painkiller Laudanum: a partially used bottle and two full.

Miss Prescott took the three vials of the opiate from the box and carried them with her toward the bed. She uncorked the tops, then swallowed the contents of each vial as quickly as she could, for the painkiller, usually mixed into some other liquid upon administration, had such a bitter taste. After only a moment or two, she felt nauseous and collapsed onto the floor. She heaved and wretched violently, her whole body shaking, but could bring up nothing but a bit of liquid as she'd had nothing to eat and an empty stomach.

Surprisingly, the nausea passed almost as quickly as it came on, and the girl pulled herself by the bedcover back up to standing. She looked down at her hand and noticed she was still clutching one of the Laudanum vials. Her body and mind seemed to lose control and grow numb. Melanie couldn't seem to get her hand to let go of the glass bottle.

Next, she felt extremely tired and fought to keep her eyes open. No longer able to feel her legs, they gave way and she collapsed across the bed, her head near the footboard and legs now dangling off the side. A quiet stillness settled over the girl as she felt her breathing seem to slow down, and her heart slowing as well, no longer beating hard and fast with anticipation.

After another few moments, the girl was completely numb and could no longer feel anything at all. Melanie did not welcome the feeling yet did not fight against it surrendering completely to it. Her vision soon blurred, then her sight went black as her eyelids fell closed.

A strange sort of peace seemed to hang over the room now as Melanie Prescott lay still and quiet across the bed, one of the glass vials still clutched fast in her hand.


	40. Chapter 40 Why?

Chapter 40 Why?

Alexander Bordon was relieved that his meeting with General O'Hara was short, less than thirty minutes. He was anxious to see Miss Prescott. His heart felt light as he moved toward the stairway. Once there, he took the steps two at a time, bounding up the stairs, soon finding himself in the third floor hallway.

In just a few steps, he was outside of Melanie's room. He listened for a moment but heard nothing, thinking she was probably sleeping. The officer knocked rapped on the door quietly but did not receive an answer.

"Melanie?" the major called through the door as he knocked a second time.

"It's Alex," he announced. "I'm coming in."

Once inside, he saw his lover laid out crazily upon the bed. The man assumed she had been out of bed moving about the room and had stretched out exhausted across it afterwards.

"Melanie?" spoke Alexander quietly as he neared the bed.

Just then, he heard a tinkling sound as the toe of his boot moved a small bottle across the floor. The officer reached down to stop the bottle from skittering any further away from him. As he bent to pick up the bottle, he noticed a similar vessel peeking out from under her bed, and grabbed that one as well.

"Laudanum," he whispered, reading the label of first one vial, then the next as he straightened up. Bordon absently wondered why the bottles hadn't been collected, knowing she had been given some of the opiate to help with her miscarriage pain.

At that moment, he looked at Miss Prescott, who hadn't stirred from the bed since he had entered. Then, he noticed a third bottle, the same as the two from the floor, clutched in her fist. The officer immediately became alarmed.

"Melanie?!" he said loudly, hoping the surprise in his voice might just awaken her. Suddenly it dawned on him that she had consumed the contents of the bottles, and he panicked.

Alex dropped down onto the bed with her now, shaking her hard as he shouted. "Melanie! Oh God! Melanie, NO!"

He turned her over from her stomach onto her back as he desperately tried to rouse her. To his terror, he noticed the pallor of her skin, the rosy peach seeming to have all drained away. Drool was trailing out of one corner of her mouth, which the major quickly wiped away.

"Melanie! WHY?! Melanie!"

Major Bordon put his ear to her chest, listening intently for a heartbeat. He heard it, but it was faint and slow. Leaving her for a moment, he grabbed a mirror from atop her bureau and put it under her nostrils. It took a few seconds for it to fog up, causing the officer to become frantic now as he noticed how long it was between her breaths, and how shallow they were.

Alex drew her limp body into his arms, shaking her while calling her name, all to no avail. As he held her against him, he was now unable to fight back his own tears.

"Melanie! Why? Oh, God no! Please!"

Miss Kilpatrick, who had been moving up the stairwell to the third floor to make her rounds, heard the distraught cries coming from Miss Prescott's chambers and quickened her pace. Wondering what had happened, she stumbled into the room nearly tripping over her own feet. The Irish servant's eyes widened at the sight before her.

Still rocking the girl in a frenzied manner, the officer held out his hand to the housemaid, displaying the three empty vials to her. The young woman instinctively took the bottles from his hand, her mouth dropping open as she realized what she had been handed.

"I can't wake her," stated Bordon incredulously. "She must have drunk all of it."

"Oh no," shrieked Bridget, shaking her head in disbelief. "I'll get a doctor!"

With that, she ran from the room, leaving a frenetic Alexander alone in his sorrow.

*****************************

In just the few moments it took for the doctor and apothecary to arrive, a small crowd of officers had gathered just inside the door of the room. The group had seen Miss Kilpatrick running for a doctor and heard her frenzied cries while doing so. Now, Tavington, Captain Wilkins, Tarleton and General O'Hara looked on with wide eyes as their fellow officer still tried to rouse Miss Prescott.

The physician and his assistant pushed their way through the small crowd and rushed to the unconscious girl's bedside with Bridget close behind to help. Wilkins and Tavington pulled their fellow officer off of the young woman's bed to allow the medics room to help, going to work instantly on the girl.

Bordon stood with the group of officers shaking his head and blinking back tears. They all watched the doctor, with Bridget's aid, beginning to work on Miss Prescott. Their eyes followed the assistant, as well, when he rose from the bedside and walked to the table where he had placed his medical bag.

From the table, the apothecary looked up at the small group of officers and motioned to them to leave. They complied, taking a stunned and emotional Alexander with them.

***********************

Late that evening, the surgeon finally emerged from Melanie's room to find Major Bordon seated in a chair in the alcove at the end of the hallway. The weary officer was slumped forward in the chair, elbows on his knees and head buried in his hands.

"Major," the doctor began as he tapped Alex on the shoulder, "you can see her now."

The officer raised his head, his eyes meeting the doctor's, with a forlorn look on his face. "Yes," he responded blankly.

"Look, major," the surgeon said in a frank voice, "we've done all we can do for her. She was already greatly weakened from her miscarriage."

Alex said nothing, continuing to stare intently at the doctor.

The medical officer went on. "I don't think she will live through the night. You should probably say your 'good-byes'."

Bordon rose stiffly, still mute. He did not acknowledge the doctor, looking down at the floor. Then he looked up and down the hall toward Melanie's door, despondence clouding his face. The officer let out a heavy sigh, then began to walk numbly toward her room.

Once at the door of her chamber, he saw his lover lying still in bed, Miss Kilpatrick attending her at the bedside. Alexander shuddered lightly, then drew in a big breath, and as stoic as he could, walked to the bed, hiding his tears and pain.

Major Bordon reached down and pulled her limp body into his arms. He lifted her from the bed and carried her across the room.

The doctor immediately protested the officer's actions. "Major, if she is to have any hope at all, she must rest. Please leave her in bed."

Alex sat down in the winged back chair by the fireplace, and pulled the coverlet around Melanie, bundling her. "If she is going to die," declared Bordon in a breaking voice, "then she will die in my arms."

The major looked down at his lover and paused. He looked back up at the doctor and Miss Kilpatrick and spoke slowly. "I would want the same from her," he stated, "to die in _her_ arms."

At that point, Bridget shook her head and began to cry, in shock that her best friend of the last two years, someone that she'd nursed through physical and emotional wounds, was dying. All the doctor could do was sigh at the unfortunate situation.

Bordon finally lost patience. "Get out and leave me alone with her," he snapped. The man wanted to say farewell to her in private.

The Irish servant and the surgeon fled the room, closing the door behind them.

When he was alone, Alexander took a deep breath, then began to pour his heart out to the young woman. "Melanie, I don't understand all this. I don't know why you wanted to harm yourself."

He paused, then continued. "I'm sorry for all the misfortune you've had these last two years. I love you so much; more than you'll ever know. I hope I brought you some kind of comfort and reprieve from your troubles."

The officer looked thoughtfully at the girl, sighed, then went on. "I wish fate had been different for us. I wish we'd have met years ago, before all this, before we had others in our lives. I'm sure we would have married and had a family. We would have been happy for a lifetime!"

Alex steadied himself, then spoke again. "I'm sorry for the pain I caused you; I wish I could take all that back. Melanie……I just…….I don't want to let you go! I love you!" With that, he pulled her against him, hid his face in her blanketed shoulder and cried.

Moments later, when he was spent and could sob no more, he sat numbly, thinking of nothing, clutching Miss Presccott's still body and staring into the flames. Every once in awhile he'd feel her take a deep breath and hold it, each time making him think that it was her last.

***************************************

After hours of this, the fire died down and the dawn's first rays peeked through the window. The man still numbly clutched his lover to himself, taking no notice of Miss Kilpatrick when she entered the room to stoke the fire. The officer stared blankly out the window.

When Bridget turned back from the fireplace toward the despondent officer, she noticed that Melanie's eyes were open wide and were glassy, and that she was blinking.

The Irish servant roused the tired major. "Sir," she shook his lightly and whispered, "she's awakened."

Alexander's eyes rounded as he looked down the young woman. He said her name in a soft, gentle voice. "Melanie? Melanie?"

He watched as her eyes moved slowly to meet his. "Alex," she mouthed silently. Then her eyes focused on him in recognition. "Alex," she whispered weakly.

"Yes, darling," he answered quietly as he smiled down at her.

"I'll get the doctor," Bridget said, then bolted from the room.

Bordon nodded as the servant rushed away. He arose from the chair and carried his lover back to her bed. Once there, he place her gently in it and sat down at her bedside, awaiting the surgeon's return.

*************************

The doctor was amazed that the girl, in an already weakened state, had pulled through her near fatal overdose. Thinking of all she'd been through and near death three times, he deemed her a walking miracle.

It was hours before Miss Prescott became lucid enough to talk with anyone at length. And Major Bordon, of course, was the first to see her.

"Why?" he asked, needing to know; needing to hear her answer. "Why did you do it?"

She didn't answer him; she didn't want to. The girl looked away.

Alexander put his hand gently on her chin and turned her head back to look at him. "Why did you want to hurt yourself?", he bade with concern.

Suddenly, the poor girl burst into tears. Alex took her hand as she heaved great sobs, but she quickly pulled it away from him.

"Because, I've been through so much!", she blurted through her tears. "I didn't want to go through anymore! I've lost everything: my family, my home, my baby, the ability to have children. What man would want a woman that can't produce his heir?"

"Oh, Melanie," sighed Bordon in disappointment, not concealing his own feelings over this incident.

Getting her crying barely under control, the young woman continued. "I've lost my reputation, my dignity, and you!"

"You haven't lost me," he coaxed. "I'm right here."

"I saw you with your wife," she exclaimed. "You reconciled."

"No," he informed. "She wanted to. I refused and sent her home."

Bordon again reached for her hand, but the girl pulled it away again.

"That doesn't matter," she stated. "You're still gone."

"No, I'm not! I love you! I'm right here!"

"No," Melanie argued adamantly, "I never_ had_ you to begin with and will never _have _you."

She sniffled, desperately trying to control her tears. "You'll always be some else's husband. I'll never be anymore to you than a mistress."

Miss Prescott paused, then began to weep again. "I'll always only be 'Brutal Bordon's Whore'!"

Alexander knew she was right. He closed his eyes tightly, squeezing back his own tears. The officer's heart broke, knowing that there was nothing he could do to rectify the situation; no way to undue his marriage without scandal to himself and family. He _was _truly sorry for his part in causing her pain.

The officer didn't know what to say. After swallowing hard, he spoke from his heart. "I thought you were gone," he sniffled as he wiped the tears from his own eyes.

"I love you so much," Alex said, his voice breaking.

Melanie reached up and touched his cheek. "I know," she acknowledged simply. Her hand dropped to his and clasped it, finally accepting and wanting his touch. "I know," she whispered in a tired voice.


	41. Chapter 41 Doldrums And Bittersweetness

Chapter 41 Doldrums And Bittersweetness

After escaping death yet another time, Melanie continued to recover over the next few days. Within two weeks, most of her weakness had passed and she was now able to sit up and move about her room again. During one of those days of improvement, she received a rare visit from General Lord Cornwallis.

After exchanging pleasantries, the Lord General sat down in the chair next to Melanie's bed. She sat up against her pillows, curious as to the busy general's reason for visiting.

"I have some good news for you," he said with a smile. The supreme commander then handed her a letter.

Her eyes quickly noticed the wax seal, which contained a large letter "C". She could not recollect if she should recognize the seal or know who it was from.

"It's from General Clinton," Cornwallis pointed out as she broke the seal on the letter. "You're being sent back to your plantation. That's your confirmation in writing."

Melanie's mouth dropped open in amazement; she had not expected this. The young woman said nothing as she looked away from the Lord General. The girl said nothing as she gazed back at the older man with a quizzical look on her face.

"Is something wrong, Miss Prescott?"

Shock held the girl's tongue captive. She could do nothing but shake her head in disbelief.

"I would think this news would make you happy," commented the general.

"I….I…I'm just……," stammered a still amazed Melanie, "I've grown used to living here." She didn't say what they both knew needed to be included in those words: that she'd also become accustomed to living there as Major Bordon's mistress.

Lord Cornwallis said nothing, listening intently as the young woman went on. "I…I feel safe and protected here."

"You'll be adequately protected on your farm, as well," the general stated. "You know that we have established a hospital there. There are plenty of soldiers there to keep you safe."

Cornwallis paused, then continued. "You will be sharing your home with the hospital until the war ends here or we pull out and close it up."

"Yes," Melanie said quietly.

"You will be happy to know that the plantation is in much the same shape as the day you were rescued," he stated. "General Clinton gave specific orders for the house to be left intact. Nothing has been pillaged. The crops have been flourishing, all under the care of your father's overseer."

"I see," Melanie answered in a disappointed voice.

"None of this makes you happy," asked the Lord General.

Miss Prescott was stunned and saddened. The fort truly had become her home, and she did not want to leave Alex. The young woman was with him most every day, and they spent many nights together in one another's beds. Now she was being told that all this would end.

"This is so much to take in," she commented. "I am grateful that your men have treated my home respectfully. And while I have wanted to go home, things won't be the same without my family there. The whole thing is bittersweet."

"I understand your feelings," Cornwallis replied. "In a few more days or weeks, when you are better, you'll be accompanied back there. Once there, I know you'll think of your family, but I'm sure that the daily duties of running a plantation and helping out with the hospital will keep you from being too melancholy."

"Yes sir," Melanie answered with not much enthusiasm.

With that, Lord Cornwallis bid farewell, leaving Miss Prescott alone. As he left, she looked over the formal letter which released her back to her plantation and heaved a great sigh.

After a moment of reading basically the same thing the Lord General had just told her, she folded it back up and slipped it into the drawer of her nightstand. Then she sank into her bed, pulled the covers up over her head, and sobbed into her pillow.

**************************

It was now the last days of 1780, and the beginning coolness of winter had settled over South Carolina. A noticeable coldness had enveloped Miss Prescott, as well. As she left her room little since her suicide attempt weeks earlier, when she was out, everyone noticed a change in her. She had become sullen and listless, moving numbly about without many words to anyone. It seemed as if she was living, or rather just existing, until her moment to die. It was as if nothing could pull her out of the doldrums. Indeed, no one was more worried about her deep melancholia than Alexander and Bridget.

Major Bordon was working with two new dragoons, showing them some fencing moves, when he caught sight of Melanie moving across the fort's courtyard. As the new recruits talked with each other, Alex watched as the girl walked aimlessly to a bench, where she sat down, and looked about at things, seeming uninterested in anything. It disturbed him that she looked at the world now as if it was dull and lifeless. It hurt him worse that she included their relationship in with all the dullness.

Alexander waved at Melanie from where he was and in return, received only a slight smile and nod back from her. He went back to answering the new recruits' questions, then quickly wrapped that up so that he could join Miss Prescott.

The officer walked quickly across the green to join his lover on the bench under the tree. He planted a gentle kiss on her cheek as he greeted her.

"Good afternoon, darling," Alex said with a smile. "How are you feeling today?"

"Fine," she answered weakly, in a bored and resigned voice. She looked down, then away from the major.

An awkward quiet settled over the two, which unfortunately, was becoming all too normal these days. It was as if the two could no longer talk easily in each other's presence.

This slight friction between them caused by the recent events of misfortune, had caused the officer to reevaluate his own situation as well as the relationship between he and his mistress.

Miss Prescott broke the silence. "They're sending me home," she declared, giving the formal letter from General Clinton stating this to Alex.

Alexander already knew this, General Lord Cornwallis having threatened it to the officer weeks earlier. It was just a matter of how soon it would happen.

The major read the letter, then folded it back up. He sighed, then spoke.

"Have they told you when you are to leave?"

"Soon," she replied. "Alex, I don't want to go."

"I don't want you to leave either," he lamented.

A few moments of yet another awkward silence surrounded the couple as both looked around at the people going about the daily duties of the fort. As they watched the activity intently, Alexander reached into his jacket pocket. He pulled out a small box and handed it to Miss Prescott.

"This is for you," he announced as Melanie took the box from his hand.

She examined the small box, a puzzled look on her face as she did. The girl could tell it was a jewelry box, and recognized the name embossed on the outside of it as from a prominent jeweler in Charles Towne. The young woman opened it to find a beautiful ring inside it.

Melanie's eyes widened, surprised by his gift of jewelry. She marveled at how lovely the ring, a single small ruby encircled by small diamonds, was. The girl looked at Alexander, a look of question on her pretty face.

At that moment, Alex Bordon moved off the bench he was seated on and onto the ground before Miss Prescott. He took her hand in his as he knelt before her.

"Melanie," he began, his deep voice laden with sincerity, "will you marry me?"

Her free hand covered her mouth in disbelief. Dumbfounded, she wasn't sure what to say or what to do. How could she marry this man who was already married to another woman? Before she could utter a word, the major spoke again.

"I've made up my mind," proclaimed Alexander, "I'm not going home to England. I want to stay here……with you. I want us to be together."

"Alex….I…", she began, than stopped, unable to find the right words.

"Before you say anything, just hear me out," he requested. "I want you to take the ring and wear it like you would as a wife. Even though we cannot be legally married, there is nothing to stop us from living together as man and wife. We can go anywhere you want. We can change our names. If we go somewhere new, then no one will know us and they won't know the difference that we aren't truly married."

Melanie's head spun at this surprise. Her heart melted and she felt even more love for Alexander than she had ever felt. But she was confused momentarily. The girl knew it wasn't right to live with a man out of wedlock, but she knew it was just as wrong to be a married man's mistress. As she thought further, she realized that this was probably as close as she would get to any sort of matrimony with Alex Bordon.

"Yes, I'll marry you Alex," she said. "I'll live with you as your wife."

Major Bordon smiled then rose from kneeling to rejoin her on the bench. They embraced and kissed softly. Alexander slid the ring onto the fourth finger of her left hand.

"I know we can't change the past, and I can't change the present in my situation with Paulette," he stated, "but we can shape our future however we want. And we can make our future in life together."

"I'll miss you when I'm back at home," Melanie said simply.

"Anytime we are in that area, I'll try to break away and visit," he promised.

"But still, I wish I could stay here with you," the girl said, nestling into his embrace. "It will be different not seeing you every day."

"I know, but after this war is over, I'll come to your farm, and we will start life anew."

"How long before this war is over," asked Melanie with a sigh.

"I think we are close to having the rebels beat," Alex said. "I believe it is only a matter of months."

Melanie looked into his eyes as she took both of his hands. "I'm so happy that we will be together the rest of our lives."


	42. Chapter 42 How Quickly Things Change

**Dear Readers, thanks for being patient and waiting for this chapter. It was a hard chapter to write.**

**JScorpio**

Chapter 42 How Quickly Things Change

Melanie yawned as she checked the food by the campfire. The hungry dragoons had consumed most of it, so she could soon begin cleaning and packing up the camp's dishes.

She sat down on a fallen tree for a moment and looked around at the activity in the cavalry encampment. The men were finishing up breakfast and milling about. From her point, she noticed that all the tents were down and being packed onto the horses along with various other sundries.

Miss Prescott hadn't slept well these last few nights on the road with Tavington's legion. This detachment had been assigned to escort the girl back to her family's plantation. She laid awake, sad and worried, knowing that her time with Major Bordon was dwindling.

As Melanie let out a sigh, Colonel Tavington breezed quietly past her. Her eyes followed him as he made his way down to the creek to shave. The girl turned to look back at the water and caught sight of Alex coming from the brook freshly groomed. She cocked her head to the side as she watched the two men pause upon meeting, speaking too softly for her to hear them.

Bordon saw Melanie as he ascended the creek bank and smiled warmly at her. She returned his look with a shy grin, blushing all the while. As he walked past her, his hand lightly squeezed her shoulder.

Once in the clearing, Major Bordon spoke to the soldiers. "Break camp. Finish packing. The colonel desires to moves out in thirty minutes!"

A round of 'Aye, sirs' was were heard from the ten dragoons as they quickened their pace.

Walking back toward Miss Prescott, Alexander took her hand in his and led her along with him. He pushed her behind a great oak tree where she was out of view of the rest of the campers. Once there, he pinned her playfully back against it and gave her a lingering kiss.

"I missed you, this morning, Mrs. Bordon," he remarked quietly as he looked down at her. He nibbled on her ear and whispered, "pray, tell me how much more time until we can have relations again?"

"Um…..Alex…," she said as she kissed his neck to tease him. "Not much longer, darling. The midwife said to wait six weeks….I should be healed completely by then."

She looked demurely up at him, taking a moment to explain that she could not sleep, and had arisen early this morning and started breakfast. As the couple talked and teased with each other, they seemed not to know they were being watched.

Indeed, Colonel Tavington saw their intimate exchange from where he stood in the creek. A pang of jealousy tore at his heart, still regretting that he'd adhered to decorum and not made advances to the woman. He would always have the memory of a few stolen moments with her, how she pushed and swerved across his lap, how he felt inside her and came so quickly. But sometimes the memory didn't seem to be enough.

The commander sighed as he crouched down to begin shaving. William consoled himself with the fact that he would no longer be exposed to their intimacies after leaving Miss Prescott at her plantation.

Melanie and Alex soon made their way out from behind the tree. Once back in the glade, the major leaned casually back against the great Oak, surveying his men as they hastened to finish breakfast and packing. His lover stood close by, watching the camp, but her mind was a million miles away, still preoccupied with her impending life at home without Alexander.

Suddenly, Bordon came forward off the tree. He cocked his head to the side, his face painted with both intent and quizzical looks. Miss Prescott gazed up at him, puzzled. Then she heard a distant sound, like thunder.

A feeling of dread washed over her as she saw a look of alarm come over the officer.

"To Arms! To Arms!", he cried to the others. Bordon quickly grabbed Melanie's wrist and threw her behind the large tree. She stumbled a bit down the embankment but rapidly got back to her feet. Alexander pulled his pistol from its holster and handed it to the young woman. It was already loaded and ripe to go.

"Use this!" he shouted above the loud hoof beats and shouts of men. "Don't be afraid to defend yourself!"

Melanie shook her head in mute compliance. "Stay down!" he instructed her.

With that, she ducked behind the dirt grade and tree, smartly hiding herself. The girl heard the gunshots ringing out, loud in her ears as she now smelled the acrid gunpowder. She turned her head to see Colonel Tavington bounding up the mound toward his men.

The noise of the fighting seemed deafening. The gunshots, the war shouts, the tied up horses stamping and neighing in fright, injured men groaning, and the scraping and clanking of metal swards and rifle barrels made Melanie cringe. The poor girl tried to cover her ears.

Every time Miss Prescott poked her head up to steal a glance at the action, her vision was obscured by the smoke from the campfire and the discharging guns. She would not look for very long, wanting to stay down, afraid of being discovered. At each glimpse, she would catch glimpses of color: militia drab brown or dragoon red and green, unable to distinguish a face.

They were like ghosts moving in and out of a mist. Still, Melanie stayed hidden, afraid for herself and worried for Alex.

After only a few moments, but what seemed like an eternity to her, the din ceased. It was over. Miss Prescott rose up slowly, anxious to know what had happened. As the smoke floated lazily away, she saw bodies from both sides strewn haphazardly all over the glade. She covered her mouth at the sickening and startling sight, not wanting to gasp and make a noise.

Her eyes scanned the area looking desperately for Alexander. She wanted to call out for him, but fright kept her mute. Suddenly, she saw a figure standing alone and recognized him immediately as the young blonde rebel who'd led the band that kidnapped her. She knew him to be Corporal Gabriel Martin, son of Benjamin Martin, the South Carolina militia colonel that the dragoons so hungrily sought.

Scared that they had come to take her back, and remembering her horrid experience at their hands, she raised the pistol to defend herself. The young woman aimed it shakily at young Martin, who had inexplicably dropped his long rifle and now brandished a knife, stalked purposefully toward a dead dragoon.

Melanie was still worried for Major Bordon. She continued to wonder where he was, still looking over the clearing for him. The girl tried hard to push the thoughts of fear and wonder out of her mind so that she could shoot Corporal Martin. The young woman cursed her shaking hands.

Finally, the chance for a perfect shot at the young rebel presented itself. He had moved even closer and stood still over the dead dragoon, his back to Miss Prescott. The woman tried again to shoot but her hands trembled even more now.

Suddenly she heard a loud cry that made her jump. As instantly as the noise had startled her she saw the seemingly dead redcoat flip himself over and force a sword up through young Martin's gut. Melanie doubled over and threw up at the sight of the tip of the saber protruding from the rebel's back dripping blood and innards.

When the sickness passed, she wiped her mouth and stood back up slowly to survey the scene. The young woman now saw Colonel Tavington standing over Martin, pulling his weapon from the prostrate rebel's abdomen. She continued to gaze in horror and disbelief at the scene, watching as the dragoon commander slipped his hand inside his jacket to check his own wound.

Miss Prescott panicked when she saw the cavalry leader begin to run toward the horses, afraid she would be left behind. "Colonel!," she cried frantically, "Please stop!"

The officer stopped in his tracks, recognizing the voice, and spun on his heel. The girl ran to him, where he caught her in his arms.

"Miss Prescott, are you alright?" gasped the colonel.

"Yes! Where's Alex? Have you seen him?"

"I lost sight of him in the scuffle."

Melanie turned and began scanning the area for her lover. "Alex!," she called frantically. "Alex!"

Tavington joined her, surveying the carnage about him. He moved from each prostrate dragoon body to the next, hoping to find his men only down and wounded. The officer turned each red jacketed man over, continuing to find one dead cavalryman after another, and feeling more sick and defeated with each one. The colonel began to realize that he'd lost nearly all his men.

Miss Prescott continued to skitter about looking for Alexander. "Bordon," she heard Tavington yell. "Bordon!?"

The outstretched arm of a dead rebel near made Melanie tumble, stopping her abruptly. She looked down and was stunned to recognize the pain contorted face of the kindly Reverend Oliver. The girl dropped to her knees beside the man who had cared for her flogging wounds while in rebel confinement.

"Oh, Reverend!", she exclaimed, "What are you doing here with these men?" She saw his cartridge box open and blood stained and assumed that he'd fought with them. The girl instantly wondered why this man of God had done that, then she remembered him telling her of how war made even the most devout of Christians act queerly.

Melanie tried to rouse the minister and could not, realizing that he was dead. She squeezed his hand and whispered, "Thank you for taking care of me; I'll never forget that. God be with you."

She rose and turned only to spot a stocky dragoon laying curled on his side only a few steps from the Pembroke preacher. The young woman rushed the short distance and soon found herself standing over Alexander.

"Alex! Oh my God!", cried Melanie as she dropped onto the ground beside him. She took his hand and touched his face with the other. "Alex darling, can you hear me?"

"Yes," he whispered looking at her, his face twisted in pain. Bordon's eyes were water filled and glassy.

"Colonel!," she called. "I found him! He's alive!"

Tavington arrived just as she was turning Alexander onto his back. The major groaned horribly as she did, his hands holding his middle.

Melanie pulled her lacey handkerchief from her skirt pocket and wiped the blood from around Bordon's mouth and chin. She then pulled his body into her arms as she looked about for something to wrap around him. Tavington peeled off his jacket and laid it over his subaltern.

William cringed to himself when he saw the stab wound in his aide-de-camp's abdomen. He saw how much it had bled, and just how much of the fluid stained the grass near his body and feared the worst. He'd seen too many soldiers with wounds that bad. Still, he took off his own green vest that had hung loose and unbuttoned on him moments earlier as he groomed at the creek and folded it into a makeshift compress. He laid it delicately against Bordon's wound then applied slight pressure to it. The injured dragoon moaned loudly as his commander did so.

"Easy Bordon," Tavington soothed, "Don't move or talk."

"Yes Alex," Melanie assured, "Hold on darling. We're going to get you to help."

Major Bordon let out another whimper of pain. The officer was in so much agony that he could barely utter a sound. In just another moment, his breathing grew ragged and uneven.

As Melanie felt Alex's body shudder, she looked at Tavington with alarm. She became panicked when she saw the look of worry on the commander's face.

"No! NO!," she screamed as she looked back down at her lover. "Alexander, please! Hold on! We're going to get you to a surgeon."

The second in command began to cough and moan simultaneously, spitting up blood as he did. Melanie lovingly wiped it away. The girl felt his body, which had been tight and rigid in pain, relax and go limp. The young woman noticed his chest no longer struggling and heaving for deep breaths; now they were shallow.

"Oh Bordon," Tavington lamented, shaking his head in disbelief as looked at the mortally wounded man. William felt absolutely sickened knowing that he was losing the best second in command he could have.

Miss Prescott saw this and began to weep. "No Alex, DON'T!", she sobbed. "Please darling, don't go! NO!" She began to rock him as his pain filled eyes looked up at hers.

"Oh God NO! Alex PLEASE! I love you so much! NO!" The girl put her lips to his and kissed them. Then she lovingly kissed his cheek and forehead.

"Alex, please," she whimpered sadly.

"Melanie," Alex whispered raggedly. "I love you."

With that, Major Bordon let out a slow, ragged breath as his body went limp.

Melanie stared at him for a moment, anxiously watching for his chest to rise again. When it didn't, she began to shake in disbelief. "Alex? ALEX?!", she moaned, "No! Oh No!" The girl pulled his dead body against hers. She held him as tightly as she could, crying hysterically in grief as she rocked the dead officer.

Tavington, kneeling beside them, put his hand on his forehead, closing his eyes in exasperation. Then he rose and looked about at all the dead redcoats and rebels. The dragoon commander shook his head and fought back his own tears, realizing he'd lost his whole detachment.

Numbly, he rose and walked away from Miss Prescott, still wailing in grief over Bordon. The colonel stumbled up the hill, his mind a blur, not sure what to do. As he walked, some of the confusion cleared and he knew he had to get himself and Melanie to safety. The bullet wound in his side ached and throbbed terribly. The officer thought that he may be able to make a horse ride, but surmised that besides the pain of riding wounded, it may make the injury worse.

William suddenly realized that he was at the road's edge as his mind cleared even more. He heard the faint sound of a wagon coming toward him. The colonel sighed in relief for he was out of uniform, wearing only black breeches and white shirt, untucked and blood stained. Tavington realized he would not look as threatening like this and could stop a carriage easily.

In a moment, a covered Conestoga wagon rounded the bend in the road. Colonel Tavington walked fast toward the road to meet it.

"Whoa," the driver called to the horse as he saw the man coming toward them. The wagon held a middle aged man and his wife. They looked down at William in concern.

"You're hurt, man!", the driver exclaimed.

"Yes," Tavington replied.

The couple eased noticeably when they heard William's English accent. "Don't worry, son," the driver soothed, "We're loyalists. I'm Mr. Hughes and this is my wife. What's the trouble?"

"I'm Colonel William Tavington, and I've lost my whole unit," the officer answered in a winded voice. "Rebels ambushed us moments ago."

"Good God! We'd better get you out of here quickly! There could be more nearby!"

"Yes," agreed Will. "There's a woman down there. We need to get her."

"Surely," Mr. Hughes acknowledged. With that, he brought the horse and wagon down the lowest grade of the hill slowly, following Tavington. The Hughes' eyes rounded at the terrible sight of dead soldiers laying about with the breakfast fire still burning.

Mrs. Hughes was moved with pity as she saw the weeping girl cradling a dead soldier. She climbed down from the wagon and moved to comfort the young woman. "Miss, please," she bade, "come away. We're going to take you to help."

Melanie said nothing, continuing to cry as she held Alex in her arms.

"I'll send a burial detachment back to take care of the men," Tavington said to Mr. Hughes, "but could we take him? He was my second in command."

The colonel paused for a moment, then went on. "She's his wife," he lied to the couple. William was too tired and spent to want to deal with a grief stricken Miss Prescott and her possible reaction to having to leave her dead lover behind.

"Surely," Hughes replied. "We can take them both."

While the wagon's owner and wife helped Melanie into the back of the vehicle, Colonel Tavington retrieved all the sensitive natured documents and maps that he could find from his and Bordon's saddlebags. He placed the papers in the wagon then helped Mr. Hughes lift Bordon's body into the thing, placing him in Miss Prescott's arms.

William climbed in slowly with the help of Mr. Hughes, and eased himself into a sitting position. The officer settled in for the ride, hoping they'd make it to the safety of the British without any trouble from the rebels.

************************

The ride to the British encampment seemed long, but was thankfully uneventful. Tavington winced and groaned most of the way, his wound hurting with every bump, hole, and rut the wagon's wheels hit. William said nothing the whole way, wearily watching Miss Prescott who sat numbly holding the dead Major Bordon in her arms.

Once safely through the perimeter of the camp, the wagon stopped and the colonel was helped out. He was immediately surrounded by mid level officers to which he conveyed the story of the ambush. William requested a burial detail to fetch his men from the creek, and for special handling of his slain second in command.

A group of redcoats soon set upon the wagon, bearing Alexander Bordon's body out of it. Melanie still gripped the man as they did, holding his cold hand while they bore him out of the wagon. When the men gently tried to push her back to take the major's body for burial prep, she resisted. The girl clung to Alex, not wanting to let go of him.

"No! NO!," Melanie screamed. She held steadfastly to the dead officer.

Tavington turned to see the uproar this was causing and stepped in. He gripped the young woman's shoulder and hand, trying to convince her to turn loose of Bordon's body.

"Miss Prescott, please," he pleaded. "They need to attend to him."

"No!," she cried. "No!" Melanie's weary and grief stricken mind prevented her from thinking straight; she thought that somehow, even though he was dead, he would not be gone if she could hang on to him one last time.

The men were pulling and Tavington was trying to tug the girl away from him. Melanie was weeping all the while. After another moment, William was finally able to pull the distraught young woman away.

Melanie wailed as she felt Bordon's body ripped from her hands. "No! Please," she cried, still reaching for her dead lover. She looked in despair up at Colonel Tavington, tears streaming down her face.

"Don't let then take him away," she begged, still sobbing.

"Melanie," he said, using her first name attempting to get through to her, "They have to. They have to take him."

The colonel held her firmly, gripping her forearms in his and holding her body back against his, direly doing his best to restrain the girl from running toward them. She continued to fight against him.

"Alex! No! ALEX!", she cried desperately. She soon tired of fighting, and doubled over forward in agony. Then she dropped to the ground in grief, a crumpled heap of tears and misery.

Miss Prescott wept uncontrollably as William knelt down beside her. He pulled the miserable young woman into his arms as she sobbed hysterically, trying to comfort her.

Some concerned young privates who had watched the scene unfold approached the couple.

"Anything we can do, sir?" one asked.

"Yes," he said, looking up at the young redcoat. "I'm Colonel Tavington of the green dragoons. This is the wife of my second in command, whose body was just borne away. If you could provide a tent for she and myself to grieve in private?"

"Yes sir, right away!"

Tavington helped Miss Prescott to her feet and followed the private. The girl leaned heavily on the colonel, crying all the way.

They were given temporary quarters in General Winston's tent, where Tavington deposited Melanie in a wingbacked chair—rare for camp living but probably pillaged from a local's home or wagon from fleeing fugitives. He covered her with a blanket then collapsed on the general's cot. William tried to relax, but Miss Prescott's muffled weeping kept him awake.

Thankfully, within another minute, a surgeon was knocking on the tent pole, ready to dress the officer's wound.

********************

After a couple of hours passed, Colonel Tavington was trying to shift into a position on the cot that would ease the pain of the bullet wound in his side. He noticed that Melanie was awake still in the chair, but crying no longer.

"Colonel," a voice called into the tent.

"Yes," he answered weakly, raising himself up on the cot with a wince.

A private entered and padded over to the bed. He whispered something to the injured officer, then turned on his heel and exited quickly.

William slowly rose from the bed, wincing again in pain as he did, then crossed to the other side of the canvas room. He knelt down next to the chair where Melanie sat and spoke softly.

"Miss Prescott," he murmured, "they're ready to bury him."

"I'm not going," Melanie answered in a quiet, bland voice. She sat still, curled up in the chair under the blanket, staring blindly at the ground.

William sighed, hoping he wouldn't get any resistance from the girl. He knew it was important for her to go to Bordon's burial, for the closure aspect. The officer, in his years in the cavalry, had seen death so many times, but still thought it best to have a final good bye with his men, and he knew the young woman would need this as well.

"Melanie, you should go—"

"No," she replied flatly.

"Please. You need to say good bye to him."

"No," she said, pushing his hand away. "I won't. I can't…..I can't watch them bury him."

"I know this isn't easy," Tavington coaxed, "but I'll be there with you."

"No…please don't make me," she said, tears welling up in her eyes as she looked at the officer.

"I won't make you; you have to make your own decision about it," he soothed. "Just recently, when you were near death twice, he was at your side."

Tears rolled quietly down Melanie's cheeks as she listened to the colonel, but she said nothing. She shook her head in disbelief.

Colonel Tavington rose. He leaned over and kissed Miss Prescott's forehead. "Very well," he whispered. "I'll be back to sit with you later."

She didn't answer him. He left her there, walking toward the tent flap.

"Colonel, wait," Melanie said in a subdued voice, "I'll go."

William walked back over to the chair and helped the girl out of it. He escorted her out and across the encampment, following one of the private's to the burial site.

********************************

It was a short burial rite. Melanie, who was led to Bordon's coffin on Tavington's arm, broke down at the sight of her dead lover. She leaned heavily against William through the brief ceremony who held her tight as she sobbed into his shoulder.

When it was over, he helped her back to the tent, her still sobbing hard all the way. The officer laid her on one of the cots and covered her. The colonel then made his way across the tent to the other cot and gladly laid his aching body upon it.

Will once again shifted on the bed, trying to find a position that would relieve the pain in his side. As he did, he listened to Miss Prescott quickly cry herself to sleep. He looked at the tent canvas and thought sadly to himself of how fast—a matter of only a moment—lives and situations can, and had, changed.


	43. Chapter 43 At Home Again

Chapter 43 At Home Again

Melanie sighed and closed her eyes as she folded the letter she'd just received from Bridget Kilpatrick. News from her Irish servant friend always made her think of the fort and remember life there. The girl rested back in the reading chair in her room, her friend's letter still in her hand. Her thoughts drifted back in time to the second attempted journey home. Had she really been home for six weeks now, she asked herself; the time had gone so quickly.

She recalled the morning she left, only days after Alex died. The girl had arisen early that morning to place flowers on Alexander Bordon's grave. She sat quietly there, alternately sobbing over him and whispering her love for him, asking how she would carry on. Her grieving had been disturbed only by Colonel Tavington, fetching her to join the detachment that was ready to depart. She remembered how she took his arm as he escorted her to the wagons, how they hugged, and that he said that he hoped they would meet again sometime. She smiled as she looked back at him a last time, where he gave her a simple wave and turned to walk away.

The journey back to her plantation had been uneventful. The young woman was put into a medical convoy of wagons full of stabilized wounded being sent to her farm to finish recovery there. Melanie had learned that her home had become a sort of long term recovery and rehabilitation infirmary. After the men had been operated on at the field and camp hospitals and were well enough to travel, they sent them to the Prescott farm.

Upon returning home, Miss Prescott had been delighted to find her house, outbuildings and lands in excellent condition, nearly as father had left them on the day he was killed. This was just as Lord Cornwallis had promised. Melanie was surprised to find that not one single piece of her mother's good china had been broken—not even a crack or a chip. She was happy to find the same slaves and indentureds still there, and relieved to find that they had been treated kindly as her family always did, much to the insistence of her faithful overseer. Yes—Mr. Andrews was still there, running the farm. And Mrs. Sloane, the head of the house servants, was overjoyed to see the girl, now the new plantation mistress.

The loyal servants filled Melanie in on all the happenings there over the last two years and showed her the 'new' daily routine of the plantation—running it plus dealing with the British and a hospital. She quickly dropped into the daily duties of running the farm business and helping with the wounded.

Whenever Melanie had a quiet moment here or there, she'd steel out to the cemetery to visit her family's graves. She marveled at how it had grown greatly and now included dead soldiers from the hospital. The girl would maintain all the graves, weeding them and decorating with flowers. She'd murmur to her dead family of how things had changed and how she missed them.

And then there were the nights—long and lonely. During her months at Fort Carolina, Melanie had grown accustomed to having Alex next to her in bed most nights. Now with him gone, she had to adjust to sleeping alone in her own home again. She cried herself to sleep every night, longing for him and missing him so. The young woman had been given a lock of his hair which had been cut at the behest of ColonelTavington: one for her and one to send back to Bordon's family in England. She often clutched the cinnamon colored hair and smelled his scent upon it, making her cry even harder. The was just now getting to the point where she could have a passing thought or slight mention of the man during the day without dissolving into tears.

Now as she slumped back in her chair, the letter made her think of the fort. Thinking of Fort Carolina inevitably reminded her of Alex. At the first flash of his face in her mind, she opened her eyes and willed herself not to cry. Instead, she stood up, laid the letter on her bureau, and left her room, all the time telling herself to be strong.

She descended the stairway and sought out her two main servants, Mrs. Sloane and Mr. Andrews. Once downstairs, she summoned the two into the parlor. "I have some news for you both," Melanie said with a smile. "Whenever this war is over, or whenever Captain Wilkins is released from service, whichever comes first, we will resume business with him."

"That's good to hear since the Wilkins' winery and brewery is our biggest customer," Andrews remarked.

"Practically a partner in business, as I recall your father's regarding of them", Mrs. Sloane remembered aloud.

"Yes," Miss Prescott echoed. "And I've learned that the captain is now married."

"The most eligible, and certainly one of the wealthiest bachelors in this area now taken?"

"My, my, the lady who caught him is certainly a lucky one, and so handsome," commented the housekeeper. "And who is this lady? Someone local that we know? I hadn't heard any gossip of such."

"No. No," replied Melanie. "He married an Irish girl. They met at Fort Carolina. Indeed, she was employed there in the main house and nursed me back to health when they took me there. Her name is Bridget. She and I became great friends and I'll be happy to have her close again."

"When may we expect to see him and his new bride?" Mrs. Sloane asked.

"I don't know. Soon hopefully. They were only just married," answered Melanie.

With that, a young slave boy came running into the house. "Miss Prescott! Miss Prescott!"

"Yes, Jonas."

"Wagons are coming up the lane, with horses and soldiers."

"Thank you, young sir," she said to the little boy.

Melanie sighed as she turned to her housekeeper. "More wounded. I don't know where we are going to put them all. I hope they sent another large tent—the buildings are full!" With that, the two women and Mr. Andrews hurried out of the house to meet the wagons.

* * *

Upon surveying the wagons of wounded, Miss Prescott was glad to find that there weren't as many injured men as she'd guessed there would be. As the soldiers unloaded the wounded, a flash of bold red caught Melanie's eye. She turned her head to look again and noticed a red and green jacket laid across a litter. The girl walked a little closer and could tell it was a dragoon jacket, but due to the men around the litter, could not see the face of the patient. She pushed gently past the men, curious to see if she knew this cavalryman. Looking down, her eyes rounded and her mouth dropped open when she recognized the face of Colonel Tavington

"Colonel? Colonel?" she said as she gently touched his shoulder. His eyes were shut.

"He fainted a few miles back," a young orderly spoke up. "He's badly hurt, but the surgeon deemed him fit enough to make the journey here. Poor man. He groaned most of the way until he blacked out. Lord have mercy."

Melanie was worried. "What happened? A battle? When? Where?"

"Yes, battle wounds," the medic answered. "Don't know where the battle was. I think he's been in the camp hospital for nearly a month."

"Please, take him to the house," Miss Prescott requested.

"Miss?" questioned Mr. Andrews, raising a cautionary eye.

"It's alright," the girl answered. "I know him….from the fort. I want him in the house. He can have my bedroom."

"Miss, begging your pardon," Mrs. Sloane objected. They, too, had heard the rumors that their own plantation mistress had become the concubine of an officer at Fort Carolina. They wondered if this was the man.

"No, I assure you, this is innocent," Melanie assuaged. "When the dragoons took me back to the fort, this officer gave up his quarters in the main house so that I would not have to be the only woman in a tent full of injured men. I recovered in his room for months. And now, I gladly give up my room and bed for him. I'll move into the small nursery next to my room."

"Very well, miss." With that, the colonel was carried into the house and quartered for his recovery in Miss Prescott's bedroom. Melanie, having grown to love her time at the fort, fell in love with Alex, and developed a fondness for her rescuers, was bound and determined to return the same kindness to Colonel Tavington. Even though she had been disgusted with him sometimes for his 'war tactics', she always reminded herself that if it weren't for his legion coming along when her family was being attacked, she wouldn't be alive.

For the remainder of the evening the Melanie remained at his bedside as he moved in and out of consciousness. She gratefully received the doctor that came in to see him.

"The notes that came with this man said he was injured in a battle up in the piedmont near the North Carolina territory," the surgeon said as he looked at the unconscious officer. "Thrown from his horse, got a bullet in the left arm, and took two bayonet stabs to the neck and the belly."

With that, he lifted the sheet to examine his patient. Melanie and the doctor together carefully eased William's shirt off his body and over his head. "This man's lucky," the doctor remarked as he looked over the colonel.

"This belly wound," he said as he swept his hand over the officer's middle, "could have been worse. It's deep, but into this large muscle group here. Missed his vital organs."

Melanie drew in a short breath as she looked at the angry red wound, stitched and swollen. She noted that the dressing needed to be changed soon and would probably do well with some kind of poultice.

The doctor pulled the sheet back up to Tavington's chest and removed the bandage from the injured man's neck. "Look how far off to the side of his neck this stab wound is," the doctor directed, pointing at William's throat. "It missed his voice box, airway, and a large artery, again puncturing a muscle and a bit of soft tissue on the side here. Just another inch this direction….."

Wincing aloud at the sight of the wound, Melanie spoke now, asking about the wounds and how to treat them. She committed quickly to memory the recipe for the poultices needed as requested by the doctor, thanked him, then bid farewell to him. The young woman ran quickly from the room to start gathering the ingredients and supplies to treat the dragoon commander.

Within the hour, Miss Prescott returned to dress the colonel's wounds. As she did, she couldn't help but note how good of physical condition the officer was in, which would no doubt help in his recovery. The girl gazed at his lean and hard abdomen, then up at his muscular shoulders and upper arms. She snapped herself quickly back to order when she realized she was staring at his bare torso, and went to work on treating his wounds.

* * *

It was late into the evening as Melanie sat wearily with Colonel Tavington. It had been hours since he'd arrived and she'd redressed his wounds, and still the officer hadn't regained consciousness. The young woman rose to leave, heading to the small nursery next door, which was her new room for the next few weeks.

As she neared the doorway, she heard a faint groan come from Tavington. She smiled and walked back to his bedside. He moved his head on the pillow a little and moaned louder.

Melanie breathed a sigh of relief and sat back down next to the bed.

She took his hand in one of hers then stroked his forehead and smoothed his hair back with the other one. "Colonel? Colonel Tavington?" she addressed him softly.

The cavalryman groaned again as his eyes fluttered open. "Miss Prescott?" he asked in a hoarse voice.

"Yes—it's me," she answered quietly. She took his hand again. "I'm glad to see you."

"Where am I?" asked Tavington, obviously confused.

"You're at my farm," Melanie replied. "They brought you here to finish your recovery."

She reached for the wet linen from the basin nearby and sponged his face and forehead. "The medic told me you had a rough ride here," the young woman remarked. "You fainted in the wagon."

"I just remember that the jarring was horrid," he commented in a weak voice. "I think the driver picked the bumpiest path here. The pain was terrible."

"You were out still when you arrived, and have been until now. I was worried about you." She put the rag back in the bowl. "Are you hungry?"

"No. I feel sick," William answered. "But I'm thirsty."

Miss Prescott reached for her own cup of tea, which was lukewarm. The girl slipped her hand under his neck carefully, minding his awful wound there, and gingerly lifted his head. The officer took a couple of sips, then closed his eyes and sighed as his nurse let his head sink back into the pillow.

Colonel Tavington moved his hand across the sheets down by his side and found Miss Prescott's hand. He took it and gripped it tightly, surprising Melanie at how much strength he possessed even while recovering from severe injuries.

"Will you sit with me for a few minutes?"

The dragoon commander had no idea that the young woman had been at his bedside most of the evening. And even though Miss Prescott was tired, she was happy to oblige. To her, his request was a simple one as she remembered how kind it was for some of the dragoon officers to relieve Miss Kilpatrick while Melanie was recovering and took the time to sit with her.

"Yes," she said sweetly, smiling at him. "The doctor tells me you are a lucky man. The bayonet missed vital arteries and organs, and the bullet didn't break your arm."

"Yes," he acknowledged, "but he tells me I won't be doing any cavalry riding or fighting for awhile. He said I'll be lucky to be back on a horse for short periods by summer."

"Colonel, do you remember anything about the battle? We don't get a lot of news here; just rumors from neighbors and villagers and whatever word the soldiers bring in."

"It was in the piedmont," the officer began. "Near the Broad River, almost into the North Carolina territory. There was a meadow where livestock was penned sometimes."

His hand slipped out of hers as he recounted the battle. Melanie leaned forward, right elbow on her knee resting her chin in her hand as she listened to him.

"We had been chasing the rebels for days. We got very close to them in mid January. We made camp and left our baggage behind with sentries and rode, up the Green River Road, I think it was. Early in the morning around three. I just remember being tired and hungry, but having to press on to try to put an end to this bunch of rebels."

The colonel paused a moment, then continued. "It was so cold. Terrible weather that morning. We met them on the field early, around seven in the morning. We were surprised to find that we were outnumbered by militia and their regulars. We were trying to regroup again for a last charge when I caught sight of Benjamin Martin from the militia."

"I remember you and Alexander talking about him," she remarked, "stating that he was a man you needed to kill or capture."

"Yes," Tavington confirmed. "He was running toward me with a crazed look on his face. I was on horseback and clearly had the advantage. So I charged toward him, taking the opportunity to put an end to him once and for all. He impaled my horse, killing it and throwing me to the ground."

Miss Prescott shook her head in disbelief that someone on foot would challenge a soldier on horseback and in a much better position. She recalled Benjamin Martin when he spoke years before at the South Carolina congress and not so long ago when he spoke with her in the rebel camp where she was held prisoner. The girl thought he seemed so calm and level headed. She didn't peg him to do something so foolhardy.

"I was dazed momentarily, but managed to make it to my feet," Tavington went on. "When I got my bearings, he was in front of me, challenging me as if to a duel."

"In the middle of a battle," she asked incredulously.

"Yes," he said. "I assume he found out that I ordered the burning of the church, with his daughter-in-law in it. I killed two of his sons. I'm sure he wanted revenge. He must of thought the battle the perfect place to issue the challenge, so I seized the moment to put an end to him."

"What happened to him," asked Melanie.

"I'm not sure," William answered, his voice quiet and weak. "I got a few good strikes in and I am positive one slice inflicted major damage, but after knocking him to the ground, he surprised me with a stab in my belly. Just as he started at my neck, a shell exploded near us, blowing us both off our feet. From the ground where I lay, I saw him get up and hobble away. I don't know what happened to him after that."

"How did you get help?"

"I rolled over as best I could and tried to drag myself off the field toward some bushes. I didn't want to be captured by the rebels. I hadn't made it very far when I felt a pair of hands on me. It was Captain Wilkins."

Melanie smiled, happy that her childhood friend and neighbor had helped his commander. She had remembered that there had been some friction between the two men after Tavington had forced Jim to throw the initial torch at Pembroke, but was glad to know that in a battle, her friend had helped a fellow soldier and commander.

"He helped me back to his horse and got me on it somehow. Wilkins retreated from the field and headed us back down the road toward camp. It was an excruciatingly painful ride. I was glad he rescued me, but in enough agony to want him to leave me by the side of the road."

William sighed, then went on, his voice sounding much weaker now. "That is all I can remember of the battle and my rescue. Next I recall waking up in a hospital tent in grave pain."

"We'll take care of you here," Melanie stated in a gentle voice.

Tavington's hand found hers again, taking it in his. He looked up at her. "I'm happy to see you again."

"I feel the same." The young woman slipped her hand out of his and put his arm back under the sheet. She pulled the blanket up and tucked it loosely around him.

"Now, I need some sleep, and you need to rest," she said with a smile. The girl walked toward the door, then turned back to look at the officer. "I'm in the room beside you if you need anything."

"Miss Prescott," he called weakly as she stepped through the door, "Are you happy to be back home?"

Melanie hesitated, then answered. "Yes.I…I…I'm fine."

With that she closed the door, stepped into the hall, then turned into the miniscule room that had once been a nursery, ready to spend her first night in there. The girl slipped into her nightgown then onto the small rope bed. She laid on her back and looked up at the ceiling, her eyes adjusting to the dark.

Seeing Tavington again and hearing him talk brought back memories of her time with the dragoons and at Fort Carolina. It also made her think of Major Bordon. Here it was, night time and once again she found herself longing for Alex and missing him so.

Unable to sleep, she began to cry. "Alex…..Oh Alex," she sobbed quietly. "I love you. I miss you so much."

**************

Note: in lieu of box springs, some beds had rope webbing across the frame and the mattress and whatever it was stuffed with was placed on the ropes for support. One had to re-tighten the ropes most nights before getting into bed. The Walnut Grove Plantation in Spartanburg, South Carolina has excellent examples of rope beds and the tool one used to quickly tighten the ropes at night.


	44. Chapter 44 A Shared Grief

Chapter 44 A Shared Grief

The next day was an early one for Melanie Prescott. She had arisen earlier than usual to make a ride around her entire plantation. The young woman didn't return back to the main house until late morning.

As she entered, she laid her riding cape over a chair and waved off meeting with her house servants until later. The girl was anxious to know how Colonel Tavington had fared through the night. She hadn't heard noise from his room, leading her to believe he'd had a restful sleep.

Melanie climbed the large stairway to the second floor. As her foot touched the landing, she sashayed down the hallway toward the officer's room, feeling excited to spend some time with him.

As she opened the door, she was surprised to see the man sitting up in bed reading his diary. The young woman smiled at him as she entered the room.

"Good day, colonel," she greeted as she neared the bed.

"Ah… Hello Miss Prescott," he replied with a soft smile.

As Melanie pulled the chair up close to the bed, she thought to herself how nice it was to see the dragoon commander smile, something she'd not experienced a lot of. He was rather more well known for a scowl or a sneer.

"How are you feeling today?" asked Melanie. "Did you eat breakfast?"

"I could only eat a little until I began to feel sick."

"Well, I'm pleased that you ate something and could keep it down."

William closed his diary and placed it on the nightstand, speaking as he did. "I thought I'd see you earlier this morning."

"Oh… I toured the plantation on horseback this morning with Mr. Andrews. He is still showing me the ropes of running a farm. Even though our whole family worked this land along with the slaves, father didn't show me all the aspects of it, so now I am gradually learning."

"Is it in favorable condition?" Tavington queried.

"Yes. I'm very happy with it," she replied. "Mr. Andrews helped to keep it in good shape. We have several former business partners that have expressed interest in resuming commerce soon."

"Would you like some of my tea? Deidre filled my cup—I only wanted a little sip," offered the girl.

"Yes please," answered William, handing his cup to Miss Prescott. "Mine went cold."

Melanie divided the hot drink, pouring half into his cup and leaving the other half for herself. Silence passed between the two as they both enjoyed sips of their tea.

William broke the silence. "I heard you crying in your room last night," he began, his words cautious and measured. "I tried to get out of bed to go to you, but I was too weak. You became quiet, so I assumed that you must have cried yourself to sleep. I felt badly that I couldn't get up to comfort you."

The girl suddenly felt embarrassed that someone had heard her very personal moment of grief. Sadness crept in as well, remembering that she wept nightly over Alexander. She took a breath for composure, not wanting to fall to tears in front of the officer.

"Thanks, colonel, but I don't want you to worry for me," she said in a gentle voice. "You must conserve all your strength for your recovery."

"Should I not be worried for my caretaker?"

"I'm honored for your concern, but really, you needn't be," the young woman assured. "I will be fine eventually. I'm still in the middle of my grief. Everyone keeps telling me that time will heal the wound."

An awkward silence passed between the two. William wondered if he'd trod too far, but truly was concerned for Miss Prescott and wanted to help however he could.

"You think of Alex all the time still?" the colonel asked in a caring tone.

"Yes. I am actually to the point that I can have a passing thought of him during the day and not fall apart into tears." She paused then continued. "But the nights………the nights are the worst."

"Come now, you made it through the grief of losing your family, and you will get through this as well," said William, trying his best to reassure and comfort her. He took her hand in his, brought it to his lips and gave it an innocent, yet affectionate kiss.

Melanie remained quiet as he did this, shy at the gesture. She forced herself to look into his eyes, sighed, and pushed her lips into a faint smile.

"I need to thank you," the girl began. "You were a great comfort to me the day Alex died. I will never forget it." Miss Prescott began to feel tears in her eyes, and did her best to fight them back.

Colonel Tavington took her hand again, holding it gently. "I was concerned for you. I know how much you loved him. I was worried, as well, that you were going to try to hurt yourself again."

The young woman slipped her hand out of his to rummage in her pocket for her handkerchief. "I was so numb. I can't honestly say if I even thought of suicide," she remarked as she dabbed at the corner of her eyes with the dainty cloth.

"You were watched like a hawk, you know," William proclaimed. He shifted slightly in bed, but kept his focus directly on her pretty face.

"I was?", she asked incredulously.

"Yes. I gave specific orders to keep all weapons out of your hands, as well as Laudanum and any other medicinal herbs," stated the commander. "I felt it was my duty to keep you well so that you'd be able to return home. I knew you'd be fine once you were here again. I trust you found comfort and solace here."

"Yes. A strange relief, as well."

Another uncomfortable quiet passed between the two. Melanie soon broke the silence.

"I don't think any of my workers and servants have passed judgment on me," the girl remarked. "They know what transpired at the Fort. At least no one has addressed me as 'Bordon's Whore'."

The young woman sighed, then continued on. "Mrs. Sloane sat me down soon after my return to inform me that they'd heard rumors about me." The girl shuddered an instant, then shook her head. "I had to tell her that they were true. She asked me if I had been forced or if I had to do it to stay alive."

Melanie looked away from the man, her eyes cast downward in despair. She felt ashamed again.

"How did you answer?" Colonel Tavington asked with concern and curiosity.

"I lied to her, for her sake and my own as well, telling her what she wanted to hear," confessed the girl. "I told her I did what I had to do to survive."

"That isn't really a complete lie, is it?" William pointed out in a questioning manner. "People do things in a time of war that they wouldn't normally do. You and Major Bordon pursuing your love for each other _was_ a means of survival, wasn't it?"

"I suppose so," she agreed as she sheepishly folded her hands and pushed them into her lap.

Another silence passed between the two. Feelings were being dredged up that were hard, yet needed to be voiced.

"I miss him, as well," Tavington confided. "I am wholly sure that he was the best aide-de-camp I could ever have. Alex was the only subaltern I truly trusted. Our thinking and our ways of commanding were a lot alike. Though we disagreed on a few things, I still respected him."

Will took a breath, then went on. "Us officers, we all earned our share of nicknames from the area locals. He earned the name 'Brutal Bordon' for interrogation tactics that he sometimes had to resort to. But yet, he had a true art for diplomacy. He could smooth over a situation with the generals better than I ever could. And his talent for gathering intelligence was unparalleled. I know that I will never have an adjutant again as good as him. But, I may not have to worry about that since my future military career is in question at the moment."

Melanie smiled at him again. As she did, she was absently twisting her "wedding" ring from Bordon on her finger. William noticed this and spoke up.

"You are nervous," he commented, pointing to her left ring finger.

"Oh……I didn't realize I was……," the girl's voice trailed off. She began to tear up again. "It was a gift from Alexander. I can't bring myself to take it off yet. He gave it to me only days before he died." Melanie sniffled, trying to hold the tears back.

William sighed wearily. The officer reached out weakly toward her, summoning what strength he had left after their conversation to touch her chin. With his thumb and index finger, he gently directed the young woman's head back to look at him. "You _will_ fall in love again," he assured her. "There _will_ be another man."

Melanie said nothing, still fighting back tears. Instead she looked away again, sighed and shook her head in mute, uncertain agreement. The conversation was now getting a little too intense for the girl, and afraid of bursting into sobs at any moment, she excused herself.

" Oh… Colonel…I need to go," she proclaimed, trying to sound stoic. "They need me to help with some of the other patients. And I've worn you out. You need to get some rest."

"Certainly," acknowledged Will. "Thank you for spending some time with me."

"Surely," the girl simply answered then left the room.

Once outside his room, she leaned back for a moment against his closed door. Trying to contain herself, she put her hand over her mouth and ran from his room. She moved swiftly down the steps and into the study, closing the door behind her. Melanie put both her hands over her mouth, trying to muffle her heaving sobs.

"But I don't want another man," Miss Prescott whispered as she wept, recalling Tavington's words of wisdom to her just moments ago. "I want Alex! I want him back! We were supposed to spend the rest of our lives together."

She moved over to the desk and sat down in the large chair behind it. Melanie put her head down on it, continuing to weep as quietly as she could.

"Oh Alex. Why? I don't understand? I love you so much! I want you back!" She pleaded to her dead lover, as if her begging could bring him back.


	45. Chapter 45 A New Humility

Chapter 45 A New Humility 

It was now mid March and the days had warmed again. William Tavington had been at the Prescott plantation for a little over three weeks. Melanie faithfully attended him, always remembering how the dragoons had rescued her when she was near death. She was happy with the progress he had been making. His wounds were steadily healing and the pain seemed to dissipate a little more with each passing day. He had progressed from sitting up, to standing, to walking a few steps by himself in just the short time there.

But the physical healing wasn't the only change Miss Prescott had seen in the legion commander. The girl had witnessed a side of him she had not seen in her little over two years in captivity at the fort. The young woman marveled at his humility. Indeed, his great loss in battle at the Cowpens in January, losing at whole detachment of men, including his aide-de-camp to an ambush, his injuries, and facing an uncertain military future had truly humbled the officer. After seeing mostly harshness from him in military matters, and firsthand experiencing some of the methods the dragoons used, this new side the officer revealed nearly caught the girl off guard. But to her, it was a pleasant change.

This afternoon, Melanie was helping Colonel Tavington in venturing out of the house. The man, though glad to be out of a drafty hospital tent and into a warm bedroom inside, was anxious to go outside. The pair walked slowly, Miss Prescott helping to steady him. The officer winced and groaned occasionally as he stepped gingerly on the unlevel lawn. The young woman stayed close to him at his side, her arm about his waist to help hold him stable, and William's arm around her shoulder, trying not to lean too heavily upon the girl.

In another moment the officer became winded. The couple stopped at the top of a gentle slope which led down to a babbling brook. Melanie watched the dragoon commander as he stared intently at the water. She recalled how he always seemed to pay special attention to waterways when she had accompanied the legion on special missions.

"What creek is that down there?" asked Tavington.

"Oh, Father called it 'Prescott Branch', she answered. "It's a small brook that runs from Steeplechase Creek. It meanders around our property near the perimeter."

"It looks deep there," William commented as pointed toward a spot that pooled then ran off a small set of falls.

"Yes," she replied, amazed at his perception of water. "It's about three to four feet in the pool."

"And you cross there," he surmised, nodding his head and looking at a certain spot in the creek.

"Yes. Yards down from the falls," answered Miss Prescott, "It babbles easily and is shallow enough to walk across; barely a few inches deep."

There was a minute lull in the conversation as the two listened to the water rushing about. Melanie looked again at the colonel, who was still watching the sparkling water.

She spoke up again. "Colonel, you are fascinated with water, aren't you?"

"Why do you ask?" His nose crinkled in query as he looked down at the young woman.

"Whenever I rode with the dragoons," the girl began, "you seemed to take particular time in looking at rivers and creeks."

"Oh. I suppose that is habit," Tavington admitted with a smile and slight roll of his eyes. "My father made our family's fortune from mills, particularly flour. I was raised around them—and in them. Pa was always looking at waterways, studying them for the potential of building another mill."

William paused, took a breath, then went on. "I would wager, even from this distance, that it is an excellent spot to put a mill. I'd have to get closer to the water to confirm it."

"We are NOT walking down there today, Colonel," Melanie advised, noticing how tired Tavington looked. "In fact, I think we should sit for a few minutes and let you rest." With that, she took his arm and helped him a few steps into the shade of a small gazebo.

As Melanie eased the officer down onto a bench, he spoke again. "Have you ever thought of milling?"

"No," she replied with a light chuckle. "I don't know if Father ever did. Probably not. I know he wasn't interested in vast numbers of commercial livestock. He never had the manpower or the nerve to drive large herds to market. No—he left the milling, herding, and other professions to other men. He had his hands full with commercial fruits and vegetables!"

The couple became quiet again, watching the workers within eyesight going about their jobs. Melanie broke the silence with another question.

"Will you go home and run those mills?"

"I don't really want to," the colonel answered. "I had a huge dose of that at age twenty."

"Oh?" The young woman cocked her head to the side, her interest piqued by his wry remark.

"Yes. Mother summoned me home from school at Oxford. She could not find Father for days and creditors were harassing her. When I came home to help, I found Father had nearly ruined the very business he built himself—as well as our family's reputation. He had begun drinking and gambling, and was spending more and more time away with loose women."

Will stopped for a moment and took a breath. He looked off into the distance, remembering that troubled time. "I looked at all the books with our accountant and lawyer. It was decided that I would temporarily take control until things were back in good shape. So, I sold off some mills at a profit, paid off all Father's gambling and bar debts, caught all the business bills up that had fallen behind. After that, I put some of the money back into improving the mills that Father neglected and needed repair, set my mother up for the rest of her life in our estate, and paid that off so that we will always have possession of it. I created inheritances for me and my two sisters."

Tavington stopped talking abruptly. A scowl crossed his face clearly conveying his feelings to Melanie. "Father was not happy with me for taking over his business, even though he had groomed me for it. Yet he was in no condition to manage things. He died shortly after I'd turned it all around."

"I'm sorry," Miss Prescott said quietly.

"Thank you," the commander replied. "He hastened his own death."

Tavington paused again, then went on. "At the time and being so young, the whole situation soured me. There was a call that went out for men that were good with the sword and could ride well, so I took part of my inheritance and purchased a commission in the cavalry. That's how I came here."

Melanie's eyes rounded at the whole revelation of this story. She was amazed and again, was seeing a side of Colonel Tavington which she had not seen before.

"Well, I wasn't sure how you had come to be in the military," she began in a surprised voice, "and I had no idea what an astute business man you were."

William laughed. "I had to become one quickly or we would have lost everything and wound up in debtor's prison. I knew how to build and run mills from years of accompanying father to them. I learned the business aspect when I had to start managing all of that."

Miss Prescott nodded her head in agreement, a smile curling her lips slightly. "Yes. I'm learning all that right now."

"Well, I'd advise you to keep the books straight and know all the aspects that you can of your business," he imparted. "And, always know what is going on—don't be an absentee owner and expect things to stay straight."

The girl's face lit up with a huge grin. She lifted her eyebrows and looked at the dragoon commander. "I'll keep that in mind, Colonel. Thanks for the advice."

William smiled at the girl and nodded his head. Another moment of quiet passed between the two as the officer thought about how easy it had been to talk with Miss Prescott.

Colonel Tavington spoke again, cautiously, as if imparting a secret. "I want to stay here in the colonies, but I lost the chance."

Melanie's face went from a friendly smile to a look of question and concern. "What do you mean?"

"Lord Cornwallis had been given a land grant in the Ohio country by his majesty," he began. "He offered part of the grant to me as a reward for the capture or kill of Benjamin Martin. I lost the chance when I lost Martin and the battle."

"But you could still stay here," Melanie pointed out. "Why not take part of your inheritance and buy your own land. It would be a good investment."

The girl stood up and took a few steps. She turned back to face the officer. "Think about it. This war is destroying families and fortunes. There will be widows left with debt. And there will be wealthy men who helped to fund the rebel effort, borrowing from good faith creditors or against their own assets. Even if the rebels should win, it will take years to establish banks and a new government, and you know that the debts will probably be called in before that."

She took a breath, then continued. "Think of all the mortgage foreclosures and bankruptcies the war will cause. With people having assets seized, they will be willing to unload property quickly to the highest bidder. You could probably pick up a few acres with a fine plantation house for a low price. And, you would be helping out a person in need."

Colonel Tavington smiled slyly, then laughed. "Isn't that just a nice way of saying that I would be profiting from someone's misfortune?"

"Think of it as taking the opportunity to make your future," she said with a smile.

Their conversation was interrupted by Mr. Andrews trotting toward the pavilion. As he grew closer, the two could tell he was concerned about something.

"Miss Prescott!"

"Yes Mr. Andrews, what is it?"

"I've just come from town," he began as he stepped into the gazebo. "I have news."

"What is it," Melanie asked anxiously. The war had stopped the flow of regular and trustworthy news onto the estate.

"There was a huge battle up in North Carolina two days ago," he plantation foreman announced.

"Who was the victor?" asked William, missing battle himself and needing to know.

"The British," answered Andrews, "at a heavy price. There were a lot of casualties. Both armies fled the area quickly, leaving the severely wounded there. Apparently, they didn't leave enough orderlies behind to take care of all the injured. Rumor is that the ones in better shape are headed our way."

Miss Prescott heaved a sigh. "Did the rumor contain anything about us getting more tents?"

Mr. Andrews smiled, knowing the mistress was wondering aloud whether or not more hospital tents, which they were short of, would be sent to the plantation. "No," he answered. "I expect some of the injured may arrive as soon as tomorrow."

The girl closed her eyes and rubbed her temples, wondering where they would put more injured since they were nearly out of space. "If we should overflow," she instructed as she turned back to face the overseer, "then we'll have to pull the buggies out of the carriage barn and use it."

The late Hayden Prescott had built this barn modeled after the one at Middleton Place, which he'd seen years earlier while on a visit there. It consisted of three sides and a roof, was a little over fifty feet in length and fifteen feet deep. One whole side was open to the elements. This barn had space for five vehicles. It housed the Prescott's personal coaches: a two wheeled Chaise, a four wheeled Landau, a Conestoga wagon and a buckboard. One of the delivery wagons usually occupied the fifth spot.

She continued. "Mr. Andrews, gather all the canvas squares we have. You'll have to nail them up to cover the open side of that barn as much as possible to shield the men from the weather."

"Yes miss." With that, the foreman started back toward the main house.

"Mr. Andrews," she called after him.

The man stopped in his tracks and turned back to look at the plantation mistress. "You know that before this is all said and done, that we'll all be living in the barns, most likely," she commented, only half joking.

"Yes," he agreed then turned back toward the house.

Miss Prescott paced back and forth a few steps, the colonel watching her all the while she did. She muttered, "More injured….dwindling space….need more doctors.." shaking her head all the while. The girl seemed to forget that William was there with her. The young woman finally plopped down on the bench across from Tavington's, rubbed her forehead then sighed.

"I've been home nearly three months now and I'm still not used to this being a hospital," commented Melanie. "Although it's been a good distraction. If all the people weren't here, and it was just me here alone with my family passed on, I think I'd go completely insane."

Another moment of quiet passed between the two. Melanie studied the colonel who was looking off into the distance. She thought he looked tired, yet troubled.

"Why don't we head back to the house," coaxed the girl. "You look tired."

"No, I'm fine," Will insisted. "Could we stay a little bit longer?"

"Of course," she answered cordially.

Another bit of silence passed between the couple. William sighed, then spoke.

"I've decided to resign my commission."

Melanie, stunned by this revelation, looked at the man with saucer eyes. Her mouth dropped open, yet she seemed lost for words. Quickly regaining her senses, she spoke up.

"Why?," she questioned. She thought this man loved the military.

"I can't ride anymore let alone fight," Tavington stated.

"You won't be injured forever," the girl argued. "You _are _recovering."

"Slowly," he retorted. "Meanwhile, the war goes on."

"I don't think you should resign," Melanie asserted boldly.

"Why not?"

"It seems to me that the cavalry—or the military rather—is your life," she pointed out. "I don't think you should give it all up simply because you cannot fight right now."

"What do you mean?" the officer asked. "I'm no good to the army now. I can't fight or lead men into battle as they want me to."

"You just said it, Colonel," declared Miss Prescott. "You said the word 'now'. If you can't fight _now_, then you should serve in whatever capacity you can until you are able to resume battle."

"Which would be a staff officer," he snorted rolling his eyes. He couldn't see himself being relegated to the role of aide-de-camp to a general.

"Colonel, I have seen how much you want to attain military glory," she cajoled. "You won't get that if you resign."

She stood up and looked down at the officer. "If you should happen to stay on, even if it is on some general's staff, then if the British _should_ win this war, wouldn't that make you part of the glory?"

"You're right," Tavington admitted. "I should investigate things a little more before I do anything hasty."

The girl smiled at him, nodding her head in agreement.

"So Miss Prescott, while we're speaking of war," Tavington mentioned, continuing their conversation, "are you still a pacifist, or have you chosen sides?"

"No, I'm not a pacifist," she stated flatly, "but I haven't chosen sides. This plantation has both loyalist and rebel customers."

She paused, contemplating just how she felt: her level of interest in the war and her emotions tied up within. The young woman heaved a forlorn sigh.

"I suppose I'm just a tired plantation mistress who wishes this conflict to be done and over with," she proclaimed, "not giving a care who wins. I've had my fill of war."

"Ah….and of soldiers it seems," William commented. "I recall you telling me that you hoped you'd never see another soldier again after the war."

Melanie blushed, recollecting exactly when she'd made the comment and embarrassed that she did. "Yes, I remember that conversation with you, sir. Mrs. Bordon had come to the fort ...... which made me angry at Alex. That was a rash statement; I spoke out of turn."

The young woman made a sour face then shook her head. "I was jealous of her. _I _wanted to be his wife and the mother of his children. _I _wanted to be Mrs. Bordon."

"Funny," smirked Tavington, "_I_ wanted to be Alex Bordon. I was jealous of him."

Melanie looked at the officer, not sure that she wanted him to say anymore. She became nervous when she realized they were sitting next to each other.

"I wanted what he had," stated William, "I longed for you."

The colonel leaned in close to Miss Prescott then brushed a very soft and chaste kiss across her lips. The girl did not push him away. Instead, she quickly stood and stepped to the other side of the gazebo.

"Colonel," she began cautiously, "What we did before, I take all the responsibility for. I was upset at Alex, and I seduced you to get him back…..or ease my own pain……" her voice trailed off. She looked out of the pavilion, away from the officer, not wanting to face him.

Melanie went on, her words slow and measured. "I shouldn't have done it. It wasn't the conduct of a lady."

"And being Bordon's mistress _was_?" William spouted off without thinking, assuming the girl had regretted their stolen moment at the fort together.

The words hit the young woman hard, making her realize that even though she had loved Alex deeply, the world outside would always view her as 'Brutal Bordon's whore'—a fallen and loose woman.

Miss Prescott burst into tears. "No," she sobbed, answering the colonel's question.

Realizing what he'd said, the officer felt like a cad. He stood slowly and painfully, and stepped toward the young plantation heiress. "I'm sorry," Tavington apologized. "I shouldn't have said that."

William brushed the tears on her cheek away with his fingers then cupped her chin, making her look up at him and into his azure eyes. "I don't care that you were someone's mistress," the officer declared. "And I'm not sorry that relations happened between us."

With that, he lifted her face a bit higher and brushed another light kiss against her lips. Then he dipped his head and kissed her a second time, lingering for a moment.

"Don't," Melanie demurred, pulling away from him. "I'm not ready for this. I…I think of Alex all the time. I still love him."

The girl, feeling awkward and confused, wanted nothing more than to run and hide. She walked quickly away from the officer. As she left the pavilion, she stopped on the steps and called weakly back to the man without looking at him.

"I'll send someone down to help you back to the house." With that she left quickly, wanting to lift her skirt and run away. But she stayed calm, instead, walking at a quick pace back toward the house, doing her best to hold back another round of tears.

William sank down onto the bench, now alone in the gazebo, and thought to himself about what had just transpired. _I made an advance toward her, which she rejected. Now our feelings for one another are out in the open. What do I do next? What happens now? _

*******

Author's notes:

"Chaise" and "Landau" are names for types of carriages

A gazebo at the time of the RevWar was sometimes also called a 'pavilion'.


	46. Chapter 46 The Walking Wounded

Chapter 46 The Walking Wounded

Melanie spent yet another sleepless night: this time not only grieving over Alex, but dealing with confusion over Colonel Tavington. She wasn't sure how to feel about the advance he'd made toward her yesterday. The girl thought that Tavington was attractive and charming, but she was still so much in love with Major Bordon. She wasn't ready to let go of the dead officer.

This morning, the two had breakfast together, and Melanie was relieved that they were joined by Colonel Wilton, the officer in charge of the medical operations at the plantation. At least the young woman wouldn't have to be alone with Tavington.

After breakfast, Miss Prescott and Colonel Tavington moved onto the porch. She took mending with her to do and he took his diary. The two exchanged small talk as they attended to their tasks, neither one mentioning what had happened yesterday, feeling better to deny that it did.

Both heard wagons coming up the lane and surmised that this must be the start of the wounded men filtering down from North Carolina. The two soon went back to their tasks after watching the orderlies descending on the vehicles. In just a few short moments, the couple were approached by a medic they didn't recognize; probably one who had come with the medical train from the north.

"Excuse me, do you know where I may find Miss Prescott?"

"That's me," answered Melanie as she put down her sewing.

"There's an officer that's asking for you," the orderly declared. "He came with us from North Carolina."

The young woman put her mending down on the chair beside her and stood up. As she did, the young soldier continued.

"Do you know where I may find a Colonel Tavington?"

"I am," William answered.

"The man wondered if you were here, as well. Come. I'll take you both to him."

The officer and the girl soon found themselves walking fast to try to keep up with the young orderly. Melanie had to ask him to slow down as the injured and still aching colonel needed help in walking the distance.

They were led to a stretcher and surprised to find Colonel Banastre Tarleton upon it, one of the upright, less heavily wounded. The young dragoon commander's right arm was in a sling, his right hand heavily bandaged. The man's red hair and uniform were askew, and though he was exhausted Ban was trying his best to suppress his groans of pain.

"He rode horseback most of the way with that bum hand of his," the orderly commented. "I don't know how he did it."

Melanie immediately became worried for the colonel. All the bedrooms in the main house were full of wounded. The young woman did not want one of her protectors from the fort recovering in a tent. Once again, she wanted to repay the gallantry of the redcoats who had rescued her and given her safe haven.

Miss Prescott wanted to make room for them man in the house, but she needed to put him some place that would afford him some privacy to recover. She needed the large drawing room and the dining room to remain free for entertaining and meetings. The girl could not give up the study as both she and Mr. Andrews used it as the farm office. The young woman sighed as she thought. The answer to the dilemma of where to put Colonel Tarleton came to her in an instant.

One of the house servants passed by toting two empty pails, catching Miss Prescott's eye. She called out to the girl. "Diedre, please make up a bed in the formal parlor for this man."

"Yes, Miss," the servant obeyed and nodded her head. She immediatly quickened her step toward the manor house.

Colonel Tarleton's wound had obviously hurt more than his physical being, Tavington and Melanie noticed right away. The injury had hurt the young officer's pride, as well, they surmised, for he was already protesting his treatment.

"I don't need this litter," he argued. "I rested in the wagon. I think I can walk now."

With that, Banastre tried shakily to climb off the stretcher but was stopped by William. "You look like you need more rest," he commented. "Let us get you inside; we can talk then."

The group made it to the house within a few moments and were soon standing in the small, formal parlor. Diedre was finishing up making the soft couch into a bed when they'd arrived.

Colonel Tarleton began rattling off while waiting to be placed on the couch. He spoke quickly, in an agitated manner. "The battle was horrific," he began, "Up in Guilford Courthouse in North Carolina. I took a ball in my hand in an earlier skirmish."

William and Melanie leaned in over him to listen to his account. "I made my way to a cabin nearby. A woman and a young boy bandaged the hand as best they could so I could get on with things," stated Ban. "I rode into the main battle and fought as best as I could with the wound. When it was over, the surgeon wanted to take the hand. I begged him not to. He said there was a chance he could save the hand if he only took my two smashed fingers. I'm out of danger thus far."

Colonel Tavington and Miss Prescott looked up at each other, silently shooting one another doubtful looks. The continued to listen as the injured officer went on. "The victory was ours but we lost so many men. I was assigned to lead the medical column down here. I rode as long as I could. I weakened last night and could no longer ride. They made room for me in the supply buckboard. The pain became awful during the trek."

"I'll get you some Laudanum, Colonel," Melanie promised. The young plantation mistress then hurried off in pursuit of the painkiller for the wounded man.

"You look bad," Tavington said, half jokingly trying to lighten the mood.

"Not half as bad as _you_ did after that battle in January," Tarleton retorted. The young officer then groaned as he shifted upon the couch.

"Yes," acknowledged Will with a chuckle, "I remember you coming to bid farewell just before you left."

"I was chasing about in North Carolina when I heard the news that you were better and had been sent here."

"Miss Prescott has been by my side during this recovery," Tavington proclaimed. "She will take care of you as well. She is a compassionate woman."

With that, Melanie appeared again in the room holding a cup of tea for the ailing dragoon. "Drink this," she said, carefully placing the cup of Laudanum laced tea into Tarleton's left hand.

While sipping on the liquid, one of the camp doctors knocked on the door frame of the parlor. "I was asked to come up and see one of the officers that has recently arrived."

"Yes," acknowledged Miss Prescott motioning him to the couch.

The surgeon quickly set about to looking Colonel Tarleton over. He lingered in looking at the young officer's hand, making Banastre nervous and fidgety. While the exam was going on, the officer began to feel the effects of the Laudanum, taking the edge off his pain yet making him drowsy and paranoid.

"I can't believe the battlefield surgeon didn't amputate your hand completely," the doctor commented while still looking at the maimed limb. "If infection sets in it could cost his whole arm."

Tavington and Melanie said nothing , both wishing the surgeon wasn't so free with speaking his opinion in front of their injured friend. "I'll clean it and redress the wound as best I can. Well have to monitor it closely."

Banastre, who was on the verge of falling into sleep and with the painkiller clouding his mind, became frightened. He reached for his pistol, fumbling, then finally finding it with his left hand. The young officer handed it over to Tavington.

"Tav, here's my gun," he slurred slowly. "If he tries to take my hand, shoot him!"

With that, Tarleton promptly passed out.

William trained his gun on the poor doctor. "You heard the colonel; clean the wound."

* * *

In the late afternoon, Colonel Tavington, after resting his own recovering body, made his way to his fellow dragoons' quarters. He relieved Miss Prescott who had been sitting by the side of Colonel Tarleton all afternoon. Just as he sat down, a sleeping Banastre was beginning to rouse.

"Did you have a good rest?" asked William.

"Yes," Ban answered sleepily. He shifted his body on the couch with a pained groan as he looked at his hand, fresh with clean bandages. "Well, I can see I still have my hand."

"Yes," Tavington laughed. "The surgeon thought it best to let you keep it."

A slight break of silence passed among the two officers. Banastre broke the quiet with a request.

"Tav, would you please do something for me?" His speech was hesitant and pain filled.

"Yes."

"I need you to help me write a resignation letter to Lord Cornwallis," Ban said, slowly.

William was taken aback, unable to believe what he was hearing. "Are you sure you want to resign? I mean, I was going to leave at first as well, but I hope to be able to fight again soon. I recently wrote to the Earl and asked for reassignment to something less physically demanding while I'm recovering. I'll probably end up as a staff officer and I abhor the idea of it, but I hate worse not being in the military. Are you really sure about leaving?"

Banastre sighed hard, then spoke. "It is different for you. You are in one whole piece; you've lost nothing of your body. And you will recover and fight again. Even when I recover, I will still always be missing part of my dominant hand. How am I to wield a sword, fire a pistol, let alone ride with no dominant hand? Christ! Even now _you_ have to write for me, so a staff position isn't even possible. My days as a cavalry leader, and a member of His Majesty's military, are over."

"I understand," William replied in a disappointed tone. "It won't be the same without you."

"It won't be the same for me either," Ban admitted. "I don't even know what I will do. I'm sure they will send me home."

Colonel Tavington, still hoping there was some other solution, spoke up again. "Are you sure about this?"

"Yes," Banastre confirmed. "What other alternative is there?"

* * *

A couple of nights later, Tavington lay asleep in a fitful slumber when a scream pierced the dark quiet. He rolled over staying still, wondering where the noise had come from. There was a moment of silence in which William pushed himself up to sitting. He now wondered if maybe he'd dreamt the scream.

"Alex! Oh No! ALEX!!"

The colonel threw back the covers on his bed and jumped from it. He ran to the door as he heard Miss Prescott screaming, wondering what was going on.

At the plantation mistress' door, he could hear her continuing shouts. "Alex, PLEASE!"

"Miss Prescott?" he shouted through the door. When there was no response, he knocked and called to her again. "Miss Prescott?"

"No! Darling don't do it!"

At her latest scream, he barged into her bedroom. From the door, the dim moonlight through the window faintly illuminated the room. He could see the girl flailing about on the bed, crying and screaming. William immediately went to her, realizing she was having a nightmare.

"Miss Prescott!" he said as he began to lightly shake her.

"Alex, don't!" she cried out, still unaware anyone was in the room with her. "Please come back!"

"Melanie, Melanie!" the officer said, shaking the girl a little harder hoping the use of her first name would help to rouse her awake.

"Don't go, Alex!"

Colonel Tavington continued shaking Miss Prescott, hoping the dream would break. "Melanie! Wake up! It's just a dream! Wake up!"

The girl woke up suddenly, sitting bolt upright, still not realizing she was not alone in her room. She looked about the dark room, still confused and feeling the effects of sleep and a nightmare. The girl was trembling when she finally realized Colonel Tavington was sitting before her on her bed.

Melanie dissolved into tears and collapsed into the colonel's arms. He held the shaking girl as she wept hard onto his shoulder. "Oh Alex, Alex…" she sobbed.

"Shhhh….it was a bad dream," Tavington comforted. "It's over now. You're alright."

The poor girl continued to cry, still so upset by her nightmare of Alex. "I saw him dying again," she sobbed.

"It was a nightmare," the officer reassured, "You're safe."

After a few moments of crying, the young woman pushed herself away from the colonel.

"Something has been bothering me now for so many weeks," she sniffled.

"What is it," William asked as he wiped a tear from her cheek.

"Months ago, once when I was angry with Alex," she began in a sorrowful voice, "I told him that I hated him and that I hoped the rebels would kill him. And now look…." Her voice broke and she began to cry again. "This is all my fault. I brought it upon him."

The girl buried her face in her hands, weeping hard again. "That is ridiculous," the colonel said in a subdued voice. "You did not curse him. He was a soldier. He knew what he was getting into."

As her tears were near subsiding, she looked back up at the colonel in the dim light of her room. They looked into each other's eyes intently. Melanie sighed and looked away, her eyes still filled with tears.

William leaned forward and kissed her forehead lightly and then her cheek. Then he brushed a soft kiss across her lips. The sniffling girl, her tears still lightly flowing, did not try to push the man away. He kissed her again on the lips and lingered a little this time. He pulled away to find tears still trailing down her cheeks.

The officer kissed her a third time, this one a bit harder. Melanie put her hands to his chest to push him away. "No…Please don't."

The colonel caught her wrists to stop her refusal of him. He kissed her lips again, then moved his mouth to her ear. "Shhh……Melanie..," he murmured as his lips tickled the shell of it. William's hands let go of her wrists and moved up to the neck of her nightgown. As he did, he continued to kiss her slowly, delighted to find no resistance from the girl.

Melanie gave in to her needs as a woman. It had been so many months since she had been with a man and the feeling of want had over taken her. She kissed him back, opening her mouth to let his tongue softly explore within.

Tavington's hands found the drawstring at the neck of her nightgown. A quick tug on it released it and his hands soon pushed the material down and off her shoulders. As he pulled the nightgown down to expose her breasts, he began to push Melanie down onto her back.

She protested halfheartedly as he did, whispering against his lips. Miss Prescott did not want the two of them to be caught in her bed. "No..Don't," she whispered. "Stop."

Her protests turned to sighs of lust when she felt Tavington's hand on her breast, caressing it softly. "Oh," she cooed. His hand moved to the other breast, rolling and teasing her nipples, making them taut. Melanie closed her eyes and let the officer do as he pleased.

Soon she felt his wet mouth on her right nipple, sucking it gently, but insistently, making her moan quietly. All the while his right hand caressed and kneaded her left breast.

Soon his mouth kissed a trail up her chest and neck to where their lips met again. He kissed her deeply, still pleased that Miss Prescott was letting him do so. His right hand soon left her chest to move downwards. He placed it softly on her left leg at the knee, where the hem of her night gown had bunched its way up under the sheets, and began to move up her leg under the material.

Melanie suddenly panicked at the feel of this. Although she thought the colonel attractive and charming and that she wanted a man in her bed again, she was still in love with Alex and felt that these actions betrayed his memory.

Miss Prescott pushed his hands away from her and his body off of hers as she sat up rigidly. "Don't!"

The stunned and frustrated colonel said nothing for the moment, instead heaving a sigh of disappointment. Melanie pulled her gown back up, wanting to cover herself.

"I….I can't….." she stammered. "I'm not ready for another man."

"There _will be _someone else," William insisted.

"But not now," commented the girl. "I'm not ready to let go of him."

Patience snapped inside of Colonel Tavington. He was used to getting his way with women; he wasn't used to being rebuffed. The officer harbored much affection for this particular woman, and he hated having to compete with the ghost of his aide-de-camp for Melanie's attention.

"Why are you letting a dead man drag you down into the grave with him?," asked a much frustrated Tavington.

"Get out!," Melanie said as she burst into tears. His words were cruel, but she knew them to be the truth. "Go! Just go!"

"As you wish," the colonel retorted. He left the room quickly.

Both of them spent restless nights in their own respective beds, confused by their own and one another's actions.

* * *

The next morning, the Miss Prescott ran right into Colonel Tavington as she crossed the drawing room on her way to see Commander Tarleton. The two stood awkwardly in each other's presence, not sure what to say.

William broke the deafening silence. "I heard you crying for Alex in your sleep last night. I only wanted to comfort you."

"Funny how your comfort turned into an advance," Melanie shot back, not giving the man even a hint of a chance to apologize.

"Don't act surprised at my feelings," he defended. "You've known how I—"

"If you should hear me crying again in the middle of the night," she interrupted him, not wanting to hear him verbalize his feelings, "don't come to me. Just let me grieve alone."

"You won't mourn him forever," the officer pointed out.

"But I'll always love him."

"As you do your late family," observed Tavington. "Just because you get on without them in life doesn't mean you don't love them or that you've forgotten them."

"Colonel, I'm not ready to let go of Alex yet," Melanie proclaimed.

"You'll have to let go of him some day," Tavington simply said.

"Yes….I know," Melanie relented with sadness in her voice. With that, she crossed the room to the small parlor.

She knocked on the door and peered into the room. Banastre smiled at her from the couch.

"Ah..Miss Prescott. I'm glad to see you."

"Are you comfortable here?" she asked.

"Yes. Thank you for putting me in your house," Tarleton replied.

"How could I not," she asked. "I owed that much to you and Commander Tavington for saving my life months ago."

"How are you, Miss Prescott? The last time I saw you at the fort you were beside yourself with grief. You still seem so sad."

"I…I miss Alex still so much," replied Melanie.

"Please allow me to say that Major Bordon was a good soldier," began Tarleton. "Although he was Tavington's second in command, he was of valuable assistance to me and never hesitated to help my brigade when asked. I've heard all that was said of you two, but I saw that the two of you loved each other deeply."

"Thank you," the girl answered.

"You know, this is the first time that I've had the chance to think about the men that I've lost, my friends and officers. And to grieve. I didn't have the opportunity to do that while commanding and doing battle."

Colonel Tarleton took a breath, then went on. "Two close friends, both officers, died within days of each other in the same week. I can't help but dwell on that now."

"Who were they," asked Melanie.

"Oh, Major Patrick Ferguson and Major John Andre," he answered. "John was hung up in New York back in October. Pattie died in battle just five days later on King's Mountain. William and I heard that the rebels stripped his corpse and pissed on it."

"Shameful," Melanie remarked while shaking her head. She still marveled at the things war made people, including herself, do.

"How goes it here without your family," a concerned Ban asked.

"Different than it was before," the young woman replied. "I miss them so. However, your army retained my servant's who were so faithful to my father. They kept the farm going in our absence. Now, they teach me the business. And the hospital here is a great distraction. I help out with it. I'm glad to have the company now of two old friends."

She smiled at the injured colonel, who returned an equally cordial one. He sighed, and then frowned.

"I've resigned my commission."

"Yes, I've heard," answered Miss Prescott. "I'm sad to hear of it. What will you do now?"

"I suppose they will send me home to England," Tarleton replied.

"What will you do there," asked Melanie with concern.

"Resume my law studies. Try to get into Parliament. Chase the ladies. Play cards. I'll find something to occupy my time."

"Funny, but it's been upsetting for me to see you and commander Tavington, who I feel are the two fiercest of his Majesty's warriors, injured," the young plantation mistress commented. "Very distressing for you both seem so lost."

Banastre raised his eyebrows and addressed her thought. "We're all the 'walking wounded'. Tav and I are not only injured physically, but our pride is hurt as well from losing a battle. Our security is wounded also due to a rather uncertain future now."

The officer heaved a sigh, then went on. "Ah but you are wounded as well, from all that you have been through these last months of your life. Especially over losing your family and Alexander."

Melanie was touched by the officer's show of insight and caring, a side which he didn't often show to the world as he much rather cared to be a happy go lucky, but fierce soldier. The girl reached across the couch to take the colonel's uninjured left hand. She held it gently and softly.

"Colonel Tavington keeps telling me that we will get through all this," she relayed simply.

"We will. Humans always find a way," Banastre agreed.


	47. Chapter 47 Analyzing Things

Chapter 47 Analyzing Things 

It had been a little over a week since Lieutenant Colonel Banastre Tarleton had arrived at the Prescott plantation to recover. The officer's injured hand hurt every day, and while he was glad to be alive as he knew many good redcoats weren't, he knew that he fared better than some.

Likewise Colonel William Tavington was in near the same situation. He had been here now for six weeks. Both of their military lives had changed and their futures were uncertain. Both had sent letters to General Lord Cornwallis: one asking for reassignment to a less physical post; the other asking to resign a commission.

The recovery left plenty of time for reflection and contemplation. The same thing gnawed at both men: the devastating loss on the Saunders' land, the Cowpens, in the South Carolina piedmont. Neither man had spoken in detail, aside from customary reports to superiors, of the defeat. This afternoon, both men decided to analyze what happened, as lessons for the future, and to save both of their own sanity.

William had brought his field and personal diaries as well as notes he'd jotted during the course of his recovery, as he recalled things. Banastre had the same, as well as a copy of the report he'd submitted to superior officers. Both men sat now in the formal parlor which had become Tarleton's temporary chambers, pouring over their notes.

As they laid their notes out and opened their diaries, Tarleton began. "I have heard since the battle now that Morgan had halted the colonials running and they'd actually camped near the field. A letter intercepted from General Morgan stated that he had a chance to thoroughly survey the field. He learned the terrain and led us right to where he wanted us, I surmise."

"No doubt some of the local men fighting with him knew the land as well," Tavington chimed in.

"Yes, and Old Morgan put us right where he wanted us, I suspect," Ban commented. "Those woods and swamps on either side only left us a small area of open field to fight in. He funneled us right in to his men."

"I think the lay of the land was deceiving as well," William spoke up. "I thought it was flatter than what it actually was. It sort of rose on a gentle incline, and he hid his men in that swale on the other side. I rode close enough to see the drop."

"I suspected that, as well," Colonel Tarleton remarked. "Our men were running and fighting uphill actually as well as the horses running up the low grade as well. I agree—it was very deceptive."

Both men paused looking over a map of the area and consulting their field diaries. Banastre went on. "One of my Cornets, Stennis, commented to me that he was unhorsed three different times by the mud. He swore that the beast couldn't get adequate footing."

"Yes," agreed William, "the muck wasn't the most conducive to proper cavalry riding."

He took a breath, then went on. "Private Cole visited me in the hospital tent," Will began, "and though I was in pain, I distinctly recall him complaining that he couldn't get a shot off; he had only his saber to rely on. He said his powder was wet even though he tried his best to keep it dry. That makes me wonder how many other men had waterlogged gunpowder."

"Who knows," Ban said, "We marched all those miles in the rain; it's a wonder that anyone's load was dry."

"With that said, how many days and miles do you think we chased them," questioned Tavington aloud. "That did not help us any. We had ridden hard for so many days and miles. We went without several meals in the order of gaining distance. We had little sleep for a couple of weeks during all this. I'll admit, I was tired myself."

"We all were," admitted Tarleton, "but we knew the men could do it and we never ask them to do something we wouldn't do ourselves."

"Yes, but every man has his limits," William pointed out.

"True."

"But the thing that puzzles me most is the account of how many men Morgan had on the field," Tavington announced.

"Yes, I was wondering that, too," Ban stated. He pulled out some notes he'd jotted down and handed them to Tavington to peruse.

Tarleton spoke as William read the notes. "Those are from a letter that was intercepted from General Morgan to General Greene. It states that he only had 700 men on the field. Now, Tav, how many battles and skirmishes have we been in these last few years?"

"Dozens."

"I know I am young and maybe don't have all the experience as the generals have," Banastre remarked, "but just from the different sized battles and skirmishes we've been in, I think I have become a decent judge of numbers of men on a battlefield."

"Yes. I think I have as well," Tavington added. "I think, he had at least double that number of men. I will venture to say at least 1500—more than us."

"Precisely! Quite a braggadocio to talk of how he beat a superior force with fewer men," Tarleton spat.

"Not to mention what that kind of propaganda is going to do for the morale of the rebels, not to mention swell their ranks," William sniffed.

Both men became introspective again, ruminating on what they'd just discussed. After a moment, Will broke the silence.

"Well, no matter, we were soundly beaten and there is no excuse for the defeat," Tavington said stoically. "We were plain outdone. We must mark this well for the future."

"Yes," Ban replied simply.

* * *

A week had passed since William and Banastre's conversation in which they analyzed their defeat at the Cowpens. It had been two weeks since he'd sent his letter by messenger to Cornwallis requesting reassignment. He watched anxiously today when the runner had come and gone with no reply, leaving him disappointed.

Colonel Tavington shook off his disappointment as he made his way through the hospital tents. He savored the warm afternoon. The white clouds had become thick and dark as a spring storm was in the making. He looked about at the others looking up at the sky, and watched as the orderlies and camp followers started to tie down the tent flaps in anticipation of a strong thunderstorm.

As he cleared the outbuildings, he looked down the gentle incline and caught sight of Miss Prescott. She stood on the banks of the creek. The girl was tossing rocks into the deepest, widest part of the creek, where the water pooled just down from escaping over the shallow falls.

William ambled slowly down the knoll toward the young woman.

"May I join you," asked Will just as she raised her arm to toss another rock in to the brook.

Melanie looked at him, disturbed by his presence as they were alone again. It seemed that the last few times she'd found occasion to be alone with Colonel Tavington, he'd made advances toward her.

"Yes, but I want you to stay over there," she requested. The plantation mistress through the stone into the pool of water, making a large plunk.

"Very well," the officer complied, "I'll keep my distance."

"While throwing your stones have you noticed the sky," he asked cordially. "It's going to storm soon."

"Yes, I noticed," she acknowledged. "Are they getting prepared up there?" The young woman motioned back up toward the hospital tents.

"Yes, they are tying down the tent flaps," William assured as the girl nodded her head. "You should get back up to the house."

Again, Miss Prescott said nothing only nodding her head.

He watched as Melanie reached down to pick up another rock. "You've kept to yourself these past few days," he commented as she pitched the stone into the creek, "Is anything wrong?"

"Just thinking," she said, not picking up another stone. Instead she stared out across the brook. "There's confusion. So many decisions that need to be made."

"About what?" queried William as he shifted his weight from one leg to the other.

Miss Prescott hesitated slightly, then spoke. "Business," she lied, blurting it out. "Business." The girl looked at him shooting him her most believable look.

"Yes, I understand," Tavington replied. "But you will catch on."

An awkward silence passed between the two. "Is that all you're worried about?"

"No, your actions and advances don't help anything," she answered flatly.

The officer looked down at the ground then back up the young woman. He sighed in frustration. "Am I to act as though I feel nothing for you…..hide my feelings?"

"Yes!" Melanie answered immediately. "No!......I….I don't know. I can't take having to sort through your feelings and my own feelings while I grieve. My hands are full." She shook her head, then crossed her arms in front of her, flustered.

"I think that's a convenient excuse to push some chances away," Tavington pointed out.

Miss Prescott rubbed her forehead with her hand. "I just…….I just can't become someone's mistress again. I don't want to become another officer's whore."

William opened his mouth to protest, but the young woman stopped him. "You know, it didn't even make a difference to anyone—and never will—that Alex and I loved each other. No one cared about that. They only talked about the action; the coupling. I'll always be Bordon's whore."

"You think I will make you into that?" asked Will.

"Yes! I think I will be known as Tavington's whore," she shot back. "You're already making improper advances to me that you want me to fulfill."

"Very well then," the officer answered through gritted teeth. "I will not make anymore advances. You have my word."

"Thank you," answered Miss Prescott in a subdued voice.

A heavy quiet passed between the two as both of them looked out over the water. After a moment, Colonel Tavington broke the silence.

"You make yourself a prisoner," he pointed out, speaking his mind. "You're a slave to the past and a dead officer. It's easy for one to find a sense of security with imprisonment. You're restricted and safe. You adhere to routine. You're kept and protected. You don't breech the border because it is safer to stay bound in the prison."

"I've grown used to it," Melanie retorted. "You redcoats kept me prisoner for two years."

The two of them stood separated by a few feet, yet glaring at each other. Miss Prescott turned away and rubbed her forehead again, a mild headache beginning to form.

"Just…..please," she stammered, "Stop adding to my confusion."

"I gave you my word that I would stay away," Tavington said in a disgusted voice. He turned quickly and made his way up the small incline.

Melanie turned and yelled back at him. "You're not the only one who has feelings! I_ do_ have them for you. Please understand and forgive me. I'm just not free to pursue them."

Tavington, who had turned to look back at the young woman as she shouted at him, did not answer. He kept silent, only shaking his head. The officer turned back to continue walking. He muttered under his breath in frustration. "You _could_ be."

The girl watched as the colonel walked away. In just a moment, she felt the breeze pick up to a stiff wind and thunder began to crack. She lifted her skirt and ran toward the house. Once inside she went straight up to the nursery which had become her temporary room for the last few weeks. She slammed the door shut then threw herself down on her bed. As she wept into her pillow, she wondered why simple feelings could be so difficult.

* * *

The thunderstorm from yesterday afternoon turned into a series of storms that hit the plantation all through the evening and throughout the night. This morning dawned to much sunshine and a clear blue sky. Colonel Tavington made his through the hospital tents, helping where he could as he had become bored without active duty. He did what he could as his range of motion and lifting heavy weight was still impacted by his abdominal injuries. William was helping to secure a tent flap when he overheard his name mentioned.

"I'm looking for Colonels Tavington and Tarleton," the young man said.

William spoke up from where he stood securing the canvas flap. "I'm Colonel Tavington."

"Yes sir, and where is Colonel Tarleton?"

"He's up at the main house," replied William.

"General Cornwallis sent me. I have a message for both of you," the soldier announced.

Tavington reached out for the message but the messenger pulled it back toward him. "Begging your pardon, sir, but I have orders to deliver the message to both of you at the same time and I am to await your answers."

"Certainly," said Will a bit puzzled. "If you will follow me to the house, I'll gather Colonel Tarleton and you may give us both the message."

"Thank you, sir," the young messenger replied.

Once at the house, he asked the soldier to wait for him in the dining room, where he would bring Colonel Tarleton momentarily. With that, William headed toward the formal parlor expecting to find Banastre resting on the couch. Once in the room, he found the divan empty. He spied a lady's shawl and mob cap on the floor and shook his head. Obviously, he thought, Banny had a bit of company at the moment, but where was he?

In an instant, William heard muffled noises coming from the study that was used as on office. The officer made his way to the office next door and found the door locked. He listened for another moment and heard more voices through the door.

"That's it, darling," the male voice said, "Take it all the way down."

Will knew the voice to be Ban's. He closed his eyes and shook his head. Even though Banastre was recovering from a hand injury, it did not stop him from going after the ladies. Tavington chuckled to himself.

Wondering who the woman was who was in Ban's company, Tavington quietly knelt down in front of the door and peered through the keyhole. He fought to keep his snickering quiet when he saw the back of a raven haired woman on her knees before Banastre, obviously orally pleasuring the commander.

William got to his feet, still trying to contain his own laughter. He thought he would give the couple another minute alone before he would knock on the door. Tavington had recognized the girl even from the back, as one of the camp followers who doubled as a nurse.

"Oh….you're doing well, love," Ban said, Tavington hearing that much through the door.

Smirking again to himself, he thought it was finally time to break up Ban's fun. He knocked on the door and called through it. "Ban? Are you in there?"

"Uh…..yes Tav…..but….uh….I'm busy at the moment."

"We've been summoned to meet with Lord Cornwallis' messenger immediately," informed William.

"Oh…uh…..very well…," Ban stammered in the midst of the girl pleasuring him. "I'll…..uh….I'll be there momentarily."

Tavington chuckled silently and walked away from the door.

Inside the office, Banastre eased his swollen member from the young lady's mouth and quickly pulled the dark haired camp follower up from her knees. "That was divine, dear."

He turned the girl away from him and pushed her down onto the table. "Bend over, love, we're not finished yet."

"Oh Colonel," the girl cooed as she readied to receive the man. She reached backwards and gathered her own skirt up to her waist.

Commander Tarleton smiled at the tantalizing view of her naked rear as he nudged his breeches down a little on his hips. He then thrust his erection into her making her gasp. As he began, he bent forward and murmured into her ear. "Now, try to keep your cries of pleasure quiet, love."

With that, he began quickly heaving himself in and out of the girl, building him and his partner up in fast time. Soon, the girl began to moan, in which he came an instant after she did.

After he tugged his pants back up and she'd pushed her skirt back down, he gave her a small but affectionate kiss. "I'll see you again soon, love." From there, they separated: Ban on his way to meet Tavington and the messenger and she on her way to the parlor to gather her shawl and cap.

Tavington was standing in the dining room with the messenger when Tarleton breezed in, tucking his shirt into his breeches with his left hand. His white linen shirt was open and his breeches unbuttoned and flapping around his knee, no stockings and in his bare feet. He did look rumpled as a man would look after recovering in bed.

Melanie entered the dining room as the two officers were making introductions with the messenger. "Oh, this is Miss Prescott, the owner of this beautiful plantation," Banastre said to the courier.

"Pleased to meet you, miss," the young soldier greeted, "but the message I have is for the two colonels only."

"I understand," she said. With that, she closed the doors from the large drawing room and entry way then closed the doors behind her as she exited into the preparation area.

Both colonels sat down as the messenger opened his notes. "General Cornwallis has replies to both of your requests."

The soldier looked at Banastre. "Colonel Tarleton, your resignation is not accepted. Lord Cornwallis states that you with one hand are a better soldier than many of the men he already has. He states that he would rather have you missing a limb then not have you at all. He kindly and respectfully suggests that you begin your rehabilitation with learning to do everything with your left hand. He has the utmost confidence in you and says that he knows you can do it. He will wait for you to gain confidence with your left hand. When you are proficient, he will restore you to legion commander. Take a few weeks then report to him. Also, he has abolished your brevet position and made you a full Colonel."

William's eyebrows rose at the message from the Earl. He looked across the table at Ban to see a sight he'd never seen before. For once, the normally talkative and charming Tarleton was dumbstruck, his mouth open and eyes as large as saucers. He was at a loss for words.

"Uh….might I answer for my fellow commander," Tavington asked. "He accepts and will begin rehabilitation right away. He will keep the general apprised of his progress."

Tarleton, still mute, shot a look at Tavington that silently asked if his friend was insane. William assuaged his fears. "I'll help him. I am ready myself, to try to begin fencing and combat again. We will help each other in our rehabilitation."

"Excellent," the messenger said with a smile. "The earl will be pleased to hear it." He flipped to another piece of paper and looked at Colonel Tavington.

"Colonel Tavington," the soldier addressed, "The Lord General understands your need to be moved to a position that requires no combat at the moment. Therefore, you have been put on his staff as his cavalry liaison. You have also been promoted in rank to Brigadier General, and have been made the commander of the cavalry. As such, for the period that you can not fight, you will attend to the administrative and liaison duties of the cavalry. During battles, you may stay on the back lines with the generals, advising and consulting. When you are able to fight and ride again, you will have the privilege of leading your legion into battle again. For now, Colonel Tarleton will be in charge of the physical activities of the cavalry and leading it into battle."

The young messenger paused, took a breath and folded his papers. He looked at both of the stunned commanders. "The General knows that the two of you will work together well and that there is no jealousy amongst you, only the sense of camaraderie."

"Well, please tell the Lord General that we will make regular reports to him and that we are deeply flattered," Tavington commented as the men all stood from the table.

"The earl will be pleased that you've both accepted," the young man said. As he left, he bowed his head in respect to each man. "Colonel. General." With that, the messenger hurried out of the house.

Melanie knocked on the closed dining room door as she'd seen the messenger leaving. William let her in and told her the news.

She quickly called to her two main servants. ", would you please bring up a bottle of champagne, and ask Mr. Andrews to join us here. You are to stay as well."

Within a few moments, Melanie's two trusted servants had joined them in the dining room. Mrs. Sloane filled five glasses with the bubbly drink.

"What are we celebrating," asked a puzzled Mr. Andrews.

Melanie smiled, truly happy for the two officers who had rescued her over two years ago, and who she had become fond of at the fort, and now as they recovered at her farm. "Both of these men have received promotions in rank. Colonel Tarleton, who was in the position of brevet Lieutenant Colonel, has been made a full colonel. And Colonel Tavington, is now a Brigadier General."

The group of five in the dining room raised their glasses as Miss Prescott toasted the two officers. "A toast to Brigadier General William Tavington and full Colonel Banastre Tarleton. May you both recover fully, fight well after that, and live long lives in which to tell of it."

"Hear hear!" the group replied.


	48. Chapter 48 Veiled Longings

Chapter 48 Veiled Longings

James Wilkins was glad to be back at Fort Carolina after weeks on campaign in South and North Carolina. He had only been back for a couple of days when he was granted furlough to return home to get his business, the winery and brewery, running at full speed again. Today was the day he was leaving and as he waited for his luggage to be loaded onto the stage coach, he took a moment to read another letter he'd recently received.

_23 March 1781 _

_Dear Jim,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. I am sending it to the Fort not knowing if you are in residence there or out on campaign. I heard a recent rumor of a large battle in North Carolina._

_Let me first tell you congratulations on your promotion to Major. Your charming new wife informed me. Take heart that though it may be a brevet, you can be proud to have respect and more responsibility._

_I have a business matter to discuss with you, or rather hear your opinion about. I have reservations about continuing business with the Prescott farm. It is not a matter of their product for they grow the finest fruits and vegetables in this region. And it is not their business practices for they are as fair and honest as they come._

_At the risk of being imprudent in speech and subject, let me just be frank and honest. I respected and deeply miss Hayden Prescott. He was such an honorable man. I must say that his daughter is not. I have doubts about doing business with a woman who was the mistress of a British officer. The man was married and she cavorted openly with him—the whole countryside has heard of this. Those illicit and immoral activities have labeled her a loose and fallen woman. _

_As Miss Prescott is now in charge of and running the business, what will be thought of me for doing commerce with an immoral woman? I may lose my partners' trust. What if rumors develop about me being in her company? This would greatly distress my wife and family._

_I cannot take this risk. I have begun looking for another farm to do commerce with. I only hope I can find one half as good with good products and practices. _

_It greatly saddens me that I won't be able to continue commerce with them for I considered Hayden Prescott a great business man and know that he worked so hard to build his farm. I only wish his daughter was as honorable as he. I never would have thought her to turn out as a strumpet. _

_With regards,_

_Eugene Carlyle._

Jim Wilkins folded the piece of paper and put it into a satchel which contained his personal correspondence. The officer was dismayed over the letter. It was the third such letter he had received in the last six weeks from mutual business associates to he and the Prescotts. The other two letters said basically the same thing: expressing reservations about doing business with a trollop who'd also been the mistress of a redcoat officer.

Major Wilkins sighed. He would have time to think about how to respond to the correspondence on the journey home.

* * *

It was nearly the end of April 1781 now and the days in middle South Carolina had grown warm. The new General Tavington and Colonel Tarleton had been rehabbing themselves and their combat abilities for almost a month now. William, though still sore from his abdomen, arm, and neck injuries, was gaining more strength every day, and Banastre was becoming better daily with learning how to fight left handedly. The two often sparred and challenged each other daily, and Melanie noticed how both seemed to have a new excitement for the future and life. They didn't seem to take their major defeat at the Cowpens as hard as they had.

Miss Prescott had kept herself occupied with caring for the wounded, which came in steadily, and learning the business both in the hands on of working the land and harvest, and dealing with the books. She was also doing better with grieving for Alex. The girl wasn't crying as much at night over him and had actually had a few restful nights of sleep. Though she still missed him, it didn't seem quite as overwhelming. Melanie had also been pleased that General Tavington had made good on his word: he had left her alone and had made no advances to her. He had treated her respectfully and as a friend.

This particular morning a request for all available hands had gone out from the Colonel Wilton, head of the hospital. Melanie answered the call of the besieged doctors and spent all morning working in the surgery tents. When activity slowed down a bit, Miss Prescott picked up two nearby buckets to be refilled with fresh water.

As the young woman carried the pails toward the well, she passed by the doxies' tents. As she looked about, she noticed General Tavington talking and laughing with one of the whores. Melanie continued to look as she walked on and was dismayed to see the general enter the tent of the trollop. She shook her head and moved on.

Once she reached the well, she had to wait in line behind one other nurse and her own housemaid, Diedre. Miss Prescott sat down on an ornamental stone wall surrounding the watering area and waited her turn patiently. As she did, her mind kept wandering back to General Tavington. The girl recalled that just the other day as she returned from the cemetery to visit her late family, she had spied the officer emerging from one of the strumpet's tents. She remember seeing him pay the harlot.

Melanie could not understand her feeling and why it upset her so to see Tavington in the company of whores. After all, she had asked him to stop making advances to her and he had, and was now purchasing the wares of the camp doxies.

Her mind was wrapped up in thought. _He can have any woman he wants; he is beholden to no one. And why should that make me upset? Why should I be attracted to him? He is 'the butcher'. I have witnessed his atrocities on more than one occasion. He ordered the deaths of all those townspeople in Pembroke! I seduced him months ago. But a gentleman would have resisted me and pushed me away with an understanding word._

Melanie continued to think. _Why does he go with those women for other than the obvious? He has had flocks of wealthy Tory women throw themselves at him. I am better than those camp women! Remember at Fort Carolina at the tents. The harlots jeered at me and called me Bordon's whore. One of them commented that the only difference between me and them was that they dwell in tents and I had a room in the mansion, that we were both strumpets._

This last recollection stung Miss Prescott hard. It hurt her deeply at the time she heard it, and made her shudder again now to recall it. The young woman shrugged off all her thoughts and misgivings as best as she could when she began to draw fresh water from the well.

* * *

THUMP!

Melanie opened her eyes and sleepily looked about her room. "What was that?" she whispered to herself. After a few seconds of quiet, she assumed the noise must have come from outside so she closed her eyes and lay back down again. She had been having a good night of slumber this evening, a rare thing, and hoped she could fall back into that same fitful sleep.

THUD!

Miss Prescott heard another noise that sounded like it might have been in the hallway near her doorway. She sat up cautiously and stayed still, listening for more.

CREAK!

The girl heard a door creak slowly open then close. She determined it to be the door to the bedroom on either side of her. The young woman then heard subdued voices of a male and female.

"Shhhhhh," the male whispered. "We will have to be quiet. I don't want to wake up the rest of the house."

"Very well, then," said the woman, "But I know you will make me want to scream with passion."

The couple laughed, then seemed to quiet except for the boards in the room occasionally creaking with a shift in weight or movement.

"Why don't we shed these cumbersome layers of clothes," the unknown woman coaxed seductively.

Miss Prescott's mouth dropped open as her eyes rounded. _Unbelievable! General Tavington has brought a woman, probably one of the camp whores, into his room, she thought._

The young plantation mistress was at a loss of what to do for the moment. _Should I leave them be? Should I knock on the door and let them know I can hear everything? Do I ask him to remove the whore? _Before she could decide, she overheard more noise.

Even though the General and his whore were trying to be silent, Melanie could hear even their most quiet exchanges through the wall. The young girl now heard the couple kissing passionately. Then, the floor boards creaked again, then were followed by an almost discernible thud on the wood. The next moment she heard a quiet gurgling and swishing sound coupled with the officer's hushed grunts of pleasure.

"Oh yes, that's it, love," said the General, "Swallow all of it."

Then there were more pleasured grunts. "Oh you're so good at that!"

Melanie covered her mouth with her hand and closed her eyes. She surmised that the whore was obviously pleasuring the officer orally.

The couple became quiet after a moment and Miss Prescott was thankful that she could hear no more of the intimate exchange. But then the forgiving silence was broken again with the floorboards creaking, then the wooden frame of the bed cracking as two bodies climbed into it. The young girl rolled her eyes and shook her head in disgust with the dragoon leader for having brought a woman into his bed.

The young woman then heard feathery kissing coupled with airy moans of passion. "Oh, my! Oh!" the woman in Tavington's bed cooed. The sound of lapping and kissing was faint, but plain.

"Ah…oh…I love your hands on them," the prostitute whispered, "and your mouth feels like warm velvet on my nipples."

Melanie gasped in her room as she heard this. She stood up at the side of her bed, thinking that she would go in and stop them now before they got any further. After a moment, she sat back down on the edge of the bed, having lost her nerve.

In another moment, Miss Prescott heard enthusiastic moans, a step louder then the murmuring she'd heard prior to that. "Oh General…your fingers feel so good inside of me!....Oh…mmmmm…move them slowly…..ah…make it last….darling…put another one inside me".

The strumpet let out an audible gasp of joy. Melanie surmised that the General had complied with her request and inserted another digit into the woman.

The plantation mistress closed her eyes and sighed. She felt insulted that this officer had invited a common harridan into her house. And worse, the man proceeded to fuck her in Melanie's bedroom,which she had graciously given up to Tavington for his recovery. And in her own bed. The young woman knew she had to say something; she had to draw a line somewhere.

Miss Prescott stood up, then began to pace about her room, thinking about how to approach the room and stop the couple's amorous intentions. She would just knock on the door and tell them she could hear them, and to return to the tents.

Then Tavington's words to the trollop stopped her dead in her tracks. "Spread your legs wide, my dear," he ordered in a hushed voice.

With that, the girl sat down on the edge of her bed again, strangely disappointed. Her mind ran away with itself. How he could be finding pleasure with this strumpet, under her roof, in her bedroom, in her bed! The girl was irritated with his lack of propriety, but stranger, she began to feel jealous. Melanie wanted to be the woman in Tavington's bed, receiving his attention.

The young girl could barely hear apparent lapping and sucking as the officer went down on the strumpet in his bed. Melanie buried her head in her hands, wishing it was her instead of the whore, and feeling shameful about it.

Then, the woman began to moan joyously. "Oh General! Your tongue there between my legs…..oh…..mmmmm…I shall die of pleasure!"

The doxy wasn't trying to conceal her pleasure, and didn't care if the rest of the house heard it. As she began to moan an instant later with her orgasm, Melanie remembered many nights of ecstasy in the arms of Alex Bordon. This made her miss the dead officer all the more, and she fought back tears.

As the plantation mistress sniffled and wiped the tears from her cheek, she heard the bed creak again, then heard bodies shifting upon it. She recalled in her mind, Alexander's body atop hers and how it felt. The poor girl could see his face before hers and she wished he was there with her.

The bedroom next door went quiet again, save for the slight sound of shifting on the mattress again. Melanie didn't know how much more of their lovemaking she could stand, yet she was frozen to the edge of her bed.

She once again heard the prostitute gasp aloud with satisfaction, Tavington grunting loudly as well. "Oh General, I wanted to be on top."

"You'll have your chance later," the officer whispered. "But for now, I'm going to wear you out!" With that, Miss Prescott heard the mattress moving with the General's body as he began to thrust away inside the trollop.

"Oh, General……harder…….HARDER!" ,the whore cried, not trying to conceal her pleasure. Soon, the headboard began to smack the wall. KABAAM! WHACK! CRACK! BOOM! THUMP! And then the couple within began to groan together, their completion imminent.

Miss Prescott bolted from the edge of the bed, pulling the quilt off with her, and tore from her room. She could not bear to hear them together any longer. She wrapped the quilt hastily about her night gown clad body as she did, leaving part of it trailing behind her. Soon the young woman retreated into her office. The girl shut the door behind her, thankful that she could no longer be subjected to someone else's happiness and pleasure.

She dropped down onto the couch where she dissolved into tears. "Oh Alex, I miss you so much. I miss feeling your arms around me and your body in my bed!"

As she laid backwards, Melanie continued to cry, throwing her arm up over her eyes. As she wept, her mind ran amok_. I don't want to be another officer's whore, but yet I wanted to be that woman tonight. I wanted to feel her pleasure. _

The girl, awash in confusion, couldn't stop sobbing as her mind tumbled about. _Is it that I want a man—any man—in my bed? Or is it that I want William in my bed?_

Miss Prescott, upset, insulted, and longing for something she couldn't seem to define or explain, cried herself to sleep.

* * *

"Miss Prescott? Miss?"

Melanie awoke to the gentle shaking by Mrs. Sloane.

"Did you work late in here last night?" , asked the housekeeper. "Mr. Andrews needs the office this morning for business. He saw you asleep in here and asked me to wake you. He sends his regrets for waking you."

"Oh….it's fine," the plantation mistress answered as she rose from the couch, gathering the quilt modestly around her.

"Would you like breakfast now, Miss?"

"Um…..I'd like breakfast in my room this morning," Melanie answered in a sleepy voice. "I didn't sleep well last night and I'd just like to rest this morning and be alone."

"Very well, miss", replied Mrs. Sloane. "I'll have it sent up."

Miss Prescott nodded her thanks and left the study. The girl sighed as she climbed the stairs to her room. She hoped that General Tavington's whore had left his room already. The young woman didn't care to hear the couple cavorting again.

Once in her room again, she climbed back into bed. Melanie made a quick decision to confront the officer, and she'd have to do it soon for she couldn't take one more night of witnessing Tavington's sexual frolics.

* * *

Later that day, Melanie was directed to the horse barn where William Tavington was. She found him in a stall, admiring the new steed he'd purchased a few days ago.

She took a breath, sucking up some courage, and looked up at the cavalry commander. "General Tavington, may I have a word with you, please?"

"Now, or can it wait," he asked smugly.

"Now please."

"Very well," Will relented. "Can we talk while I untack my horse? There seems to be a shortage of grooms and stable boys around here this morning."

"Yes," she answered, then continued. "Even though my farm has been turned into a military hospital, it is still my home. I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't bring women to your room. If you want to engage in that activity, take it down to the tents. You seem to frequent them anyway."

The General stopped what he was doing and looked down at the young woman. "If I 'frequent' the bawdy tents, as you so efficiently put it, it is because I am a man and have needs. As far as last night goes, I'm sorry that my lady friend's amorous yearnings kept you awake."

She thought he was taunting her. Melanie put her hands on her hips, ready to stand off against the dragoon leader. "Lady? You mean strumpet! I don't want common trollops in my home; it insults me as mistress of the house."

"Insults you," Tavington jeered.

"Yes! That is _my_ bedroom and _my_ bed!"

"Which you willingly gave up to me," Will pointed out.

"Keep the trollops elsewhere," Melanie warned, trying to keep her voice down.

"Well isn't that the pot calling the kettle black," Tavington shot back sarcastically, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"Bordon's whore!" he sneered. Before she could get a word of defense in, he continued on. "My, you are bold to tell me where to confine my activity after you romped freely in and out of bedrooms at the fort with my second in command!"

"This is not the fort," Melanie shouted back. "This is my home, and I don't want those harridans in my house!"

"And how was your conduct with Bordon at the fort any different than theirs?"

Miss Prescott didn't dignify that cruel comment. Not backing down, she stood up to the officer.

"I refuse to argue any further with you, General," she said. The girl pointed at the commander in warning and concluded, "DON'T bring any women into my house, my bedroom, or my bed!"

"You would rather it be you in your bed with me!" William smirked back.

"We're through here," Melanie said. She spun on her heel and stomped away.

Tavington marched after her. He caught her upper arm and roughly half pulled, half dragged her into a nearby stall with high walls and a high wooden gate which was used as a storage area. Will put the girl roughly up against the wall, then pinned her arms above her head.

He leaned in and stole a kiss from her.

"How dare you!," she accused.

The officer leaned into her, his face close to hers and said, "I want you to stop denying me." The man then kissed her again hard.

"Don't," Melanie cried.

Tavington transferred both her slender wrists into his strong right hand, keeping them pinned to the wall above her head, then ran his left hand down her body. His hand stretched to her knee, where he quickly pulled her skirt up. The officer hooked his hand under her right knee and pulled it up to rest on his left hip. He then switched hands again, and ran his right hand down her body. He gatherer the skirt at the knee, then slid his hand up her thigh, making her breathing ragged.

"Please don't do this," she begged. "I'll scream. I'll accuse you of rape."

"You were a married officer's mistress," said William, "no one will believe you."

The young woman tried to wriggle out of his grasp. He spoke as she continued to fight him.

General Tavington put his lips down close to her ear. "A ghost can't satisfy you as a man can." With that, he drove two fingers up into her and was pleased to find her moistened already for him. The sudden invasion made her gasp.

"I'm not ready for this with another man," she cried.

"Yes you are," William whispered. "You feel extremely ready to me."

Though she begged him not to do it, his fingers felt so good inside her, the gentle plunges they made inside made her want him all the more.

Melanie found just a bit of strength left inside her to protest again, though it was a feeble attempt. "Please don't make me do this," she said looking into his eyes.

His mouth covered hers in a deep kiss to stop her protesting. Then Will's lips moved down her jawline and to her ear.

"Oh…..mmmm….ah," Melanie said feeling the pleasure between her legs. "Don't make me into your whore."

"Shhhhhh……..Melanie…," he murmured in her ear, then moved to kiss her neck.

When he eased the grip on her hands still pinned to the wall, she brought them down and slid them about the officer's neck. The two kissed again as his fingers continued to plow furroughs of pleasure into the woman.

"You like this, don't you," he asked in a whisper.

"Yes," she replied airily.

"Do you want more," he asked, his lips against her ear, tickling it.

The girl felt like she could no longer speak, trying to get her breath. Instead, she nodded her head 'yes.'

With that, the William withdrew his two fingers from her. Then he plunged three fingers hard up inside her, taking her breath away and making her clutch his shoulders tightly with her hands.

"Oh…..God…..mmmm", she whispered when her could finally gulp down some air.

Tavington pushed and pulled his three digits so deeply inside her that she could feel the tips of them tickling her cervix. The girl did not want him to stop.

The general kept on with the steady rhythm of his fingers and hand, obviously filling the woman with pleasure. Melanie rewarded his actions with impassioned coos and sighs, mingled with deep, passionate kisses.

The young woman felt a warmth develop in the center of her pelvis. Her lips found their way to his ear where she murmured in a guilty voice, "I'm going to come."

"Yes," he whispered back. "I want you to."

The girl's knees started to become weak. She was glad and relieved to feel that completion was near.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the stall door. "General Tavington? Are you in there."

Will stopped his ministrations and tried to compose himself to answer. "Yes."

"Colonel Wilton needs to speak with you," the unknown messenger's voice rang out.

"I'm busy now, can it wait?"

"No sir. It's an emergency."

Tavington sighed and pulled his hand gently out from under Melanie's skirt. "Very well. I'll be there momentarily," William answered trying to veil his frustration.

William pushed her skirts down and straightened himself up. Miss Prescott stayed leaning against the wall, aghast at what just went on and her own reaction to it. She felt that her body controlled her during those fleeting moments. She began to weep.

General Tavington looked down at her. His hand went under her chin to cup it. He then raised her head to look at him. "What's wrong?"

"I'm so ashamed," she sobbed. "I forgot myself and acted like a horrible wanton."

"Shhhh…..no," he comforted her. "You knew pleasure with a man you loved once. It's been awhile since you were in his bed. It's natural to want to feel that again."

He kissed her forehead and started to walk away. Before the gate, he turned back and returned to her where she was still leaning against the wall. Will took her hand, then put his forehead against hers, where they stared into each other's eyes.

"Don't make me into your whore," she requested in a small, lost voice.

"You will have love again," William said, "and you will have pleasure with it. If you will let yourself."

Will brushed a kiss against her temple, then turned to walk away. Melanie watched him as he left the stall with longing in her eyes and confusion in her soul.


	49. Chapter 49 Dilemmas And Worries

Chapter 49 Dilemmas And Worries

General Tavington walked along the lane from the main hospital tent toward the house. He was always so amazed at how hot the South Carolina days became once spring had arrived. It was mid morning and the man was already looking for respite from the sun. The officer found a spot in the shade just to the side of the house, relieved that the group of privates that had occupied those chairs last night had left them there.

William sat down and stretched his legs out in front of him. The general fished a dispatch he'd received out of his pocket and looked over it again.

_29 April 1781_

_Dear General Tavington,_

_First let me congratulate you on your recent promotion to Brigadier, a position you have well deserved. I am sorry to be so tardy with my well wishes, but things have been insane her of late. I believe the town is beginning to settle down again after this last bit of business._

_I would like to meet with you at headquarters in Camden as soon as possible. Since the remnants of your unit had been folded into Colonel Tarleton's unit in January, we have had trouble getting recruits. We would like to expand the cavalry again to encompass a second unit. I am anxious to discuss this possibility with you and get your opinion._

_I look forward to seeing you in Camden._

_With warmest regards,_

_Lord Rawdon_

The officer heaved a sigh. He was settling into his new duties as an advisor and liaison on the General's staff, but he missed the physicality of the legion. The riding, the fighting, even intelligence activities—he longed to be involved in that again, but knew he had to heal a bit more if he ever expected to fully return to that kind of life.

Tavington knew the wagon that would accompany him to Camden was nearly ready to leave, but the small detachment of men hadn't assembled at the vehicle yet. This was good for William who needed a few minutes of rest after having been on his feet this morning moving through the hospital tents meeting with some of the injured. The officer was content to relax for a few moments under the shade of the tree.

* * *

Meanwhile inside the house, Miss Prescott trotted down the stairway as fast as she could for she was already a few minutes late for a meeting with Mr. Andrews. It was now the beginning of May and the young woman was anxious to hear about the profits and losses for the winter months and to see how the first couple of months of spring business were shaping up. She also hoped to discuss plans for the summer months at the plantation, as well.

As the girl bounded down the stairs, she peered over the rail into the large drawing room looking for General Tavington. Melanie had not seen the officer yet this morning and had missed him. Since the incident in the barn a few days ago in which he'd pinned her against the wall and they'd shared a passionate exchange, the man had not touched her. Indeed he'd been a perfect gentleman, keeping to his word he'd given her a while back that he would make no more advances to her. The girl had secretly hoped he would "slip up" on his word again as she'd enjoyed their fleeting moment in the horse stall.

At the bottom of the steps, she paused a moment to crane her head the direction of the dining room, hoping to catch the man in there, but he was nowhere to be seen. The young woman took a breath and shrugged it off.

She sashayed into the office with a quick apology for her tardiness. It was only after she sat down that she noticed that Mrs. Sloane, the head housekeeper, was seated and in the office. The matronly head of the house never attended business meetings; Melanie was perplexed.

Before she could ask why the servant was there, the overseer spoke up, answering her question. "Miss Prescott, I've asked Mrs. Sloane to attend the meeting this morning as I have a rather delicate matter to discuss that I may need her help with."

The younger woman, trusting his judgment, shook her head in acknowledgement. "Yes. Very well," she answered in a puzzled voice.

Melanie settled back in the seat and looked at her farm manager. Mr. Andrews folded his hands and placed them on the desk, then took a deep breath.

"As you know, I've been visiting with our customers and corresponding with them," he began. "And….uh……we have a problem."

"Yes?"

"Three of our largest accounts no longer wish to continue commerce with us," the man answered cautiously.

"Who?, " Melanie asked as her face contorted with concern.

"The Carlyles, the Burtons, and the Maitlands," replied Andrews.

"Why?" The young girl sat forward on the edge of the chair, her eyes wide with concern and bewilderment. "Our business is fair and honest, and everyone has come to know that."

"Yes, they have," the overseer assured, "but it's not the business per se. They have reservations about doing business with you."

"With me?", she asked. "But the business runs just the same as when father was alive. He built it and you are at the helm."

"Well,….it….uh," Mr. Andrews stammered, "they don't like……or…they don't want to…um..Mrs. Sloane, if you would, please."

"Miss, it's just that—"

"Wait a moment," Melanie interrupted the housekeeper, already putting two and two together. "Let me guess. They don't want to do business with Brutal Bordon's mistress." A scowl crossed her face. Contempt seeped into her soul as she became upset with those three particular customers when she recalled how hard her father had worked for them.

Her answer was met with her two servants shooting quizzical looks at each other across the study. The housekeeper spoke up.

"Well, miss….it's just that—"

"No," Melanie said, politely waving off her servant's words. She turned in her seat back to facing the desk. "Please Mr. Andrews," she bade, "My father trusted you and I do, as well. And though this is delicate, you may tell me anything."

"Yes miss," he acknowledged. "It is not so much _who _you were with….it is the….activity….you engaged in with the man. Though you may have done what you did to stay alive, they only see it as indecent and lewd behavior. They have labeled you a loose and immoral woman. They are afraid that you may be corrupt and dishonest, let alone what people would think of them for engaging in business with a …….forgive me…….what they think of as a sinful woman."

An awkward silence filled the room as they ruminated on the words the overseer had just said. Melanie then heaved a heavy sigh.

"Thank you, Mr. Andrews," she stated in a disappointed voice yet trying to stay stoic. "I understand that must have been hard for you to tell me, but I appreciate that you were direct and honest. It is not a wonder my father trusted you implicitly."

Melanie stood up and paced a few steps as the servants watched her. "Well, what I have done in the past cannot be changed now," she said in a strong voice, trying to keep it to a business monotone. "I take responsibility for my actions. But for now, we are in danger of not breaking even this year without those three accounts. So, what can I do to repair my reputation and salvage the future of this plantation?"

Andrews paused, took a breath then answered. "Marriage. Preferably to someone local who is known and of a good family and standing."

Melanie's heart sank. Though she had dreamed of being married and before her miscarriage, longed to have a family, the girl wanted it when _she_ was ready for it. The young woman also wanted what her parents had: love and romance before they married, with a proper courtship. This revelation seemed to dash all of Miss Prescott's dreams. The plantation mistress wondered if there was any other way to rectify the situation.

She sighed then spoke. "I understand. May I have a day or two to think all this over and to perhaps investigate if they may be any other possible solution?"

"Yes, miss."

Visibly shaken and disappointed, Miss Prescott excused herself and made her way to the study's door. Just before she walked through it, Mr. Andrews called to her from the desk.

"Miss, I wish I had better news for you."

Melanie said nothing, only shaking her head in acknowledgment of her overseer's apology. The girl then left the office, walking aimlessly through the house for a moment, still in shock.

* * *

Unbeknownst to Miss Prescott, Mr. Andrews, and Mrs. Sloane during their meeting in the study, someone had heard the whole conversation right through the open window. In fact, the chair that General Tavington sat in, languishing in the shade while waiting to leave for Camden, was right outside of the mansion's office. The occupants had no idea anyone was out there for the window was raised quite a few feet off the ground as the first floor of the house sat over a half cellar. From where the three were, they could not see anyone outside the office under the tree.

Tavington did not purposely want to hear this and had no idea it was even going on. He felt badly that he'd overheard an apparently private conversation, but felt worse for Miss Prescott by what was revealed to her. The officer could tell by the tone of her voice that she was startled by the unfortunate news and flabbergasted by the seemingly only possible solution. Indeed, only a few short years ago, William had been in a similar, sort of forced situation in business.

The officer recalled back when he was twenty, when he was called home urgently to take over his father's faltering business. The young man had to drop out of school to do this. The general certainly knew how desperate the young woman must feel since he'd been in similar shoes. Tavington knew all too well that with the blessing of money and success through a family business sometimes came the sacrifices one often didn't want to make to save it. He shook his head and sighed as he arose from his seat, knowing that Miss Prescott had a hard decision ahead of her to deal with.

General Tavington walked out of the shade and stared down the lane toward the wagon and saw that the small escort of soldiers was beginning to assemble. He quickly flagged down a stable boy to fetch his steed. As he waited for his horse, he noticed Miss Prescott wander onto the veranda, looking lost and distraught.

The officer walked over to greet her. "Good morning, Miss Prescott," he called to her as he extended his arm to her.

Melanie forced a smile as she took hold of his gentlemanly hand, helping her down the steps. She descended slowly. "Good day, General Tavington."

The girl slipped her hand from his and waved to one of her servants passing by. "Would you have my horse brought around, please," she directed, "I'd like to ride the plantation."

"Yes. Right away, miss."

"Something wrong, Miss Prescott," William asked in his most innocent voice, knowing full well what troubled the girl.

She heaved a sigh. "Oh….business….problems." Melanie looked over to see a groom bringing Tavington's saddled horse to him. This seemed to bring her out of her own problems for the moment for the young woman immediately worried for the officer. Miss Prescott was concerned knowing that his nearly four month old wounds still plagued him in this stage of his continuing recovery. The man still hadn't been able to ride long without irritating his injuries.

In worry, the plantation mistress spoke up. "General, where do you ride to?," she asked.

"Camden," he replied, "I have military business there." The officer took off his new General's staff uniform coat, a long one, folded it and stuffed it into his saddle bag.

"But we had word that there was just a battle there," she exclaimed. "There could be rebels lingering."

"I full well _know_ that, Miss Prescott," Tavington informed in an irritated tone.

"I hear the rumors," she said as she grabbed his arm. "The snipers shoot officers first! Highest rank—"

"Why do you think I took my jacket off," he said with a smart smile as he put his tricornered hat on.

"You can't go without an escort," she protested.

The officer stepped close to her. Looking down at the young woman, he proclaimed, "Miss Prescott, I_ do_ know how to defend myself. I've been an officer all these years!"

Melanie became angry, spouting off as the man reached up to grab his saddle. "Honestly, you're just like Alex Bordon! You think you are invincible and that you'll never get hurt!"

"On the contrary," countered William as he lifted his leg over the horse. "I'm even more aware now of getting hurt. I'll be fine."

The girl rushed toward his horse. "But Willi—…". She stopped short, painfully aware that she was using his first name. Melanie corrected herself. "But general, what about an escort?"

"I _have _one," he replied. "I'm riding with a small detachment of men and a wagon to Camden to pick up some wounded."

"Oh," the young woman said in a subdued voice, feeling silly for thinking that a seasoned officer would leave without an escort.

"Miss Prescott, must you know _all _my business?" he asked in a manner of scolding. From atop his horse, he frowned down at the girl, trying to keep a serious look on his face, but chiding her out of his own playfulness. The officer chuckled inwardly at teasing the plantation mistress.

"No, sir," apologized Melanie humbly. "Sorry."

"Don't be," he cheered, a smile breaking his scowl. "It's nice to have a woman concerned for my welfare."

William nodded his head to her then nudged his horse forward. Miss Prescott watched him as he rode easily up the lane to meet the awaiting wagon.

Melanie suddenly realized that she'd made a huge fuss and felt embarrassed. She looked at the ground, blushing furiously from head to toe, and hoped that no one had seen the exchange with the general. As she continued to wait for her horse, she wondered why she had fretted so openly over the officer.


	50. Chapter 50 For The Sake Of Business

Chapter 50 For The Sake Of Business

On the evening of the same day, Melanie was still brooding over the thought of marriage. Sunset was approaching as the girl stood in her favorite place, the plantation's gazebo, ruminating about the desperate situation. She was so wrapped up in her own worries all day long that she'd missed two meals. The young woman had lost her appetite.

Miss Prescott paced in circles around the pavilion, wringing her hands and shaking her head. The young plantation mistress had hoped to wait for love and marry when she'd found it, as her parents had. She knew that was unusual as most marriages were arranged by social class, business deal or convenience. The girl did not have the luxury of time to wait on romantic love.

Melanie, though scarcely home now for five months, had grown used to the power of being in charge. As mistress of the home, farm and business, she had the final say over all of this. She wasn't ready to give this up to a man.

Also, the young woman was leery of splitting her fortune—earned through her father and family's hard work—with a husband. It wasn't that she loved the money, it was the fact that, in her mind, it was sacred to her that her father and mother had worked so hard to build it. She did not want to see it plundered by a husband that may make bad business investments or that might possess bad habits and lack of self discipline. The young woman felt strongly about retaining some control over the fortune, how it was spent, and what was funneled back into the business.

The girl was so lost in thought that she didn't realize that she was no longer alone.

"Good evening, Miss Prescott," William Tavington called as he neared the gazebo. "Would you like some company?"

"Hello, General Tavington," Melanie greeted back as she turned his direction. "Yes. I've been a hermit all day. Please join me."

As he walked up the steps into the pavilion, the girl spoke up immediately. "I'm sorry for my behavior this morning, General," she apologized. "I had no right to question you like I did."

"It's all right," he assuaged. "I could tell that you were quite distraught over something." And though he knew the reason why she had been so upset this morning, he chose to keep his mouth shut and remain 'ignorant' over it.

The officer stepped a bit closer to the woman. "In fact, you seemed so forlorn that I brought a gift from Camden back for you to cheer you up!"

"Oh, General, I will be fine," she tried to assure him, feeling rather embarrassed now that she'd made such a fuss earlier today.

Tavington handed the fist sized box to her as she continued to feel awkward. "Really, sir," she protested, "you didn't have to do this. I….I…probably shouldn't accept it."

"No. I insist," the officer urged, pressing the prettily wrapped gift back to her. "I want you to have it."

Trying to be gracious, the young woman choked back her awkwardness and opened the paper to reveal a small box. Opening it, inside she found two rings: a single gold band and a square cut sapphire with two sparkling diamonds placed on either side of it.

Miss Prescott's eyes widened as her jaw dropped, aghast at the clearly extravagant gift of jewelry. As she continued to eye the rings as if mesmerized, she stammered, "General…I….I…..can't accept this—"

She stopped mid sentence. The girl had been so busy looking over the jewelry that she had not noticed that General Tavington was now kneeling before her.

"Miss Prescott," he began, interrupting the stunned girl, "Would you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?"

Melanie was speechless and flabbergasted. When she first saw the rings in the box, it did not even dawn on her that they were wedding rings; she thought them just an expensive gift of jewelry. She knew that the officer had feelings for her, but had no idea how deep they ran. The young woman stood there for a moment, holding the ring box stiffly, unable to speak. Everything today seemed to be happening so fast.

After a moment, her speech returned somewhat. She squeaked, "General—"

"You may call me William now."

"Uh….um….Wil…William," she stammered awkwardly, "the ring is beautiful." With that, she closed the box and walked to the edge of the gazebo. "I just….I had no idea," she stuttered in a lost voice as the General stood up again.

Tavington remained silent, letting the proposal sink in to her mind and wanting the girl to voice her thoughts to him. "Before I give you an answer, might we talk a little?" she asked timidly. "May I ask you some questions?"

"Certainly."

Melanie paused as she gathered her thoughts as well as the questions she wished to pose. She sighed as she looked up at William, who stood patiently waiting.

"You are an officer in the military, and come from a milling background," she pointed out. "What do you know about farming and running a plantation?"

"You know that I can run the business from having to step in and take over my father's mills. Business is business. Many of the aspects and principles are the same," Tavington stated. "As for farming, you or Mr. Andrews will teach me….and I will learn!"

"Are you sure you want to marry 'Brutal Bordon's whore'?," she began. "The whole countryside knows of Alex and I and they are not forgiving at all about it. In fact, this farm has three vital customers that don't care to do business with a fallen and immoral woman."

"I've told you before, I care not that you were any officer's mistress," he assured. "Besides, I know what happened. I know that you loved and cared for him very much."

"My reputation isn't much better," he continued. "I'm the 'butcher Tavington'."

Melanie nodded as she let out a sigh. The girl went on. "I'm still in love with Alex," she said slowly and cautiously. The girl looked away sheepishly from the officer. "I'm still grieving for him."

"Yes, I know you are," he answered in a surprisingly understanding voice. "And you will still be grieving for him for some time, I'd imagine. Just as you still do your family. I will be patient and allow you your time and space to continue grieving. I know you will get through it."

Miss Prescott became quiet, thinking about what he'd said to the points she'd already brought up. But the girl wasn't through yet. She had tougher issues to share yet.

"What else are you worried about," asked William.

"I…..I can't give you children," she stammered. "When I had the miscarriage a few months ago, the doctor said that he felt that it left me a horrid mess on the inside, so I cannot conceive."

The officer already knew this, but remained silent that he did. He recalled how Alex informed him of it....at the point of his sword on his throat.

Melanie turned away from William and walked to the rail of the pavilion. "I can't give you a son…..an heir."

Tavington moved up slowly behind the woman and delicately traced the outline of the top of her shoulders. "Yes, an heir is important," he spoke softly, his mouth near her ear. "But if it is not to be, then so be it."

The officer turned her around to face him and took gently ahold of her shoulders. "Melanie, if you really want children, good God, this war is going to leave many orphans. We can adopt as many children as you desire!"

A smile broke across Miss Prescott's face as she began to blush. She had one last issue to discuss with him. The girl stepped away from the general once again.

"To be honest, while I do have some feelings and attraction for you," the girl announced, "I don't love you."

Tavington chuckled a bit. "I know you don't. Do you think you could learn…or grow to love me?" He walked to Melanie as he awaited her answer.

"Um…..well…" she stammered. But before she could say anymore, William scooped her into an embrace and gave her a long, deep kiss, taking her breath away.

"Yes…yes!...I'm sure I will," Melanie answered breathlessly as he let her out of his hold.

He laughed at her reaction, but was pleased with it as well. The officer spoke again, still trying to win the young woman over. "You know that with my business experience with father's mills that I could help with the farm business. And, right now I know this appears, as is really, a marriage of convenience for the sake of business."

Tavington looked down, then back up again at the young woman. "I feel I have gotten to know you in the last two and a half years and I have seen how you love, and that you can love deeply. My hope is that this marriage of convenience will eventually turn into one of love, trust and respect."

His eyes seemed to sparkle as he looked down at Melanie. In fact, she felt sure that the shade of blue actually deepened. At any rate, his words and the look in his eyes melted the girl.

"You should ask me again, quickly," she said, "before I voice any more reservations."

"Surely," he acquiesced. With that, he took her hand in his and brought it up to his chest, clasping it lovingly against his heart. The man then slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her gently to him. Looking down at her with his deep blue eyes penetrating her soul, he asked again. "Melanie, will you marry me?"

"Yes!" she replied sweetly with a smile. The general leaned down and kissed her softly, then picked her up in his arms as if to carry his bride. He quickly left out a yelp of pain and immediately set his new fiancée back down.

"William!," she exclaimed in a worried voice putting her hands on her fiancé as he doubled over in pain.

"My wounds aren't completely healed yet," he coughed. As he caught his breath, Melanie remembered Alexander's ring, still upon her finger. She looked at her left hand at the circle of ruby and diamonds. The young woman still loved and grieved for Alex Bordon and could not bring herself to remove the ring. But she knew it needed to come off to be able to wear her engagement jewelry.

When the girl saw that the officer was upright again, she held her left hand out to him, with her eyes closed. She didn't think she could bear to see the ring of her dead lover come off her hand.

"You're going to have to take this off for me, please," she requested. "I…I..ca..can't do it."

"Certainly, darling," he replied with sincerity. "I understand." With that, William slid Bordon's ring off her hand and pocketed it.

"I'll slip it into your jewelry box later," he assured her, his voice understanding.

"Thank you," answered Melanie as she choked back the urge to cry.

The general took her hand again and slid his engagement ring onto her left ring finger. He kissed her hand softly before releasing it.

Miss Prescott gazed at the new ring on her finger and was dazzled. "Oh, Will," she exclaimed, "It's so beautiful."

The man smiled, then teased her a bit. "You're calling me 'Will' already?"

The young woman looked down, embarrassed. Tavington put a finger under her chin and raised her head to look at him. " 'William' or 'Will' is fine," he assured her.

"Now," William said as he slid his arms around the girl, "When do you want to get married?"

Melanie had wanted a proper courtship time with William, but knew the farm couldn't afford it. The woman threw caution to the wind.

"William, why don't we elope now. Tonight!," she answered.

That would have been fine for Tavington as he wanted the young woman in his bed immediately. But since this, at present, was for the sake of business, he knew this would have to be handled the right way so as to repair her reputation and appear gracious to their business customers, especially those threatening to leave.

"Melanie, believe me, I want nothing more that to marry you now. But we should do what we need to do to mend your reputation and keep the plantation's business associates."

General Tavington went on. "I think they will need to see us get married and be a part of it, and then greet us as a newly married couple."

"Then when?", she queried.

"How about two weeks from today?"

"That soon?!"

William shot her a puzzled look. "What happened to 'let's elope tonight'?"

Melanie blushed again. "Oh,..forgive me, Will. I'm bowled over by all this and how quickly things happened today."

She stood up on her toes and craned her neck up to give him a small peck of a kiss. "I want the wedding here, on the farm, in this gazebo."

"Very well, then," he agreed. William offered her his arm. "Darling, let me escort you back to the house and we'll make a proper announcement to everyone."

* * *

Once back at the house, it only took a few moments to summon the servants and some officers from the hospital. Miss Prescott had asked Mrs. Sloane to pass out glasses and champagne for a celebratory announcement. Melanie and William stayed a respectable distance from each other. As the glasses were being filled, Tavington looked about for Banastre Tarleton, but did not see his presence in the small crowd now gathered in the drawing room of the mansion.

He stepped over to one of the young medical officers. "Have you seen Colonel Tarleton?"

"I last saw him about a half an hour ago, on the veranda," he replied.

By then, the crowd was ready to hear the news. Tavington decided not to wait for Ban. He would seek him out later and inform him.

General Tavington looked at the crowd and began. "I have an announcement. I have asked a certain young lady to become my wife and she has consented to do so."

There was a small burst of exclamation from the crowd, many not knowing who the officer had been courting. They were anxious to find out.

"Who's the lucky girl," a British accented voice yelled from the crowd.

"Miss Melanie Prescott!"

With that there was a loud gasp from the crowd, then a large round of applause, obviously in approval of the match. Melanie then moved over close to William who took her hand.

Tavington continued to address the group. "I am sure you, especially the loyal servants of the Prescotts for many years, will be happy to know that I am not taking her away to England with me. We're going to stay here and make this our home."

"When do you marry," someone called from the crowd.

"Two weeks from today," Tavington answered. "Here, out in the pavilion, as my fiancée wishes." He looked down at Melanie and gave her a respectable kiss on her cheek.

Colonel Wilton immediately called for quiet and attention. "Everyone, please, raise your glass with me in congratulations for the new couple. General Tavington. Miss Prescott, or the future Mrs. Tavington. I wish you both good luck and prosperity, and a long and happy marriage!"

The new couple graciously accepted with a nod and a toast. After sipping the golden liquid, the crowd swallowed up the newly betrothed couple and began wishing congratulations and asking questions.

In a few moments, when some of the clamor died down, Colonel Wilton approached the general. "I understand the need that you two newlyweds will want this house to yourself, so I will begin moving the injured men from the house and out into the new hospital tent."

William was then approached by Mr. Andrews asking about new sleeping arrangements. The general told the man of the sick being moved out the next day. Will requested that Melanie be moved back into her old bedroom and he would be moving into Mr. and Mrs. Prescott's room, which Melanie would then move into with him on the wedding night.

As the crowd dispersed, Melanie sat down at the dining room table with Mrs. Sloan and Diedre, the house servant, and began to compose engagement and wedding announcements to be couriered around the next day. As she did, she noticed her fiancée wandering around the room.

"William, what is it?" she called to him from the table.

"Ban missed our announcement," he replied. He walked over to the table and kissed Melanie's head. "I'm going to try to find him. I'd like to tell him before he hears it from someone else first. I'll be back later to tell you 'good night'."

With that, he left the house in search of Banastre. Once out of the mansion, he saw a young lieutenant that often played cards with the cavalry commander and asked of his friend's whereabouts.

"Um…well sir…we were playing cards earlier this evening down at the followers tents," the young officer answered. "Colonel Tarleton chose to stay down there with one of those women for a little while tonight."

William headed toward the whores' section of tents. He knocked on a couple of tents before he received a less than hostile answer of, "He's over in Mary's tent."

When General Tavington reached the tent, he could hear clearly through the canvas the sound of Tarleton heavily engaged with the strumpet. In between heavy breathing and indecent words of passion, Will knocked on the wooden tent pole.

"Ban, are you in there?"

"Can't talk now," he replied, out of breath, "I'm busy, Tav."

"Ooh……mmmm…Oh Colonel!," a female's voice exclaimed quietly from under the canvas.

"May I ask you a quick question," William asked, trying not to snicker.

"Make it fast," answered Banastre, never missing a beat as he continued rutting into the young doxy laying beneath him.

"Will you stand up with me as my best man at my wedding?"

"Yes!," he replied as he kept on moving himself in and out of the whore. "Oh…..yes….darling, move your legs that way."

"Thanks," Tavington said, chuckling low as he walked away from the tent.

After another moment, Tarleton suddenly stopped screwing the whore. He looked at the girl straight in the face as asked her, "Did he just say 'wedding'?"

The girl nodded her head 'yes'.

Banastre repositioned himself slightly above the girl and resumed driving into her, this time at a furious pace. He brought himself and Mary the whore to completion in just a moment.

He sat up and began pulling his clothes on quickly, the girl helping him as his hand was still heavily bandaged. "Sorry love. I've got to go talk some sense into my friend before he ruins his life!"

With that, Tarleton jumped up and bolted from the trollop's tent. He didn't get very far before he stopped in his tracks. He spun on his heel and fished a couple of coins from his pocket. From the tent doorway, he tossed the silver to the young woman, still naked on her bedroll.

The young colonel took off running in search of General Tavington. When he finally caught up to him, the young officer was still dressing himself.

"Tav! Tav!", he said, catching up to his friend while tucking his shirt into his breeches. "You're getting married?! Have you gone insane?! Think of all the pretty wenches you will be missing out on!"

"I have thought about it," Tavington answered as the two walked toward the mansion. "I get money and social status instead. And by the way, my new fiancée is quite a beautiful wench!"

"Who is the lucky…..or unlucky…..woman," asked Ban.

"Miss Prescott."

Ban stopped dead in his tracks as the general walked on. He laughed hysterically. "Did she put you up to this?"

"No, I assure you this is real," Tavington said. "She needs a husband and I need a wife and plantation to be able to stay here."

"Well, she's a fine catch and a Goddess Divine beauty as well," Tarleton said. "Congratulations!"

Tavington accepted the hand of his friend in a gracious handshake. "But Banny, it's not just her money and convenience…..I genuinely feel affection for her."

"Willie old boy, Cupid has shot his arrow into your stupid, foolish heart!"

"That he has," William replied with a smile and roll of his eyes. The two friends began their trek toward the house again.

"So when is the happy day," asked Ban as they strolled.

"Two weeks from today," answered Tavington.

Colonel Tarleton stopped in his tracks. "That soon?" He took his friend's arm and spun him back to face away from the house. He started to walk back toward the whore's tents, practically dragging William with him. "You've got an awful lot of whoring to squeeze in during the next few days!"

* * *

Author's note: Gazebos were also called "pavilions"18th century.


	51. Chapter 51 Questions Abound

**Author's note: **Hello faithful readers. Thanks for your patience in the last three weeks or so--I think it has been that long since I have updated. I had a death in my family and a planned family vacation in the last couple of weeks, so again, thanks for waiting patiently.

This chapter ran long so I had to make a decision where to cut it. Be assured that the the officers' after dinner conversation will be printed and shared with you all (would I leave all of you out of our favorite dragoon's dealings??) in the next chapter.

I proofread this chapter very quickly, so I hope you will excuse any lingering errors. I will try to check it again tonight and correct it on this site. I am also working on chapter 52 as this is posted.

JScorpio

Chapter 51 Questions Abound

The morning after Melanie and William Tavington's engagement was a busy one with messengers being sent forth from the Prescott estate with announcements of the betrothal and invitations to the wedding. It was estimated that it would take the couriers the rest of the day and well into the evening to hand deliver what they could; the rest would go post. Strategic British officers were invited, ones that might help further the General's military career in the future especially. Also, all of the plantation's clientele were invited so that they might witness the 'Redcoat officer's mistress' being married and therefore becoming an 'honest woman'.

Now it was late morning and Paul, a young stable boy and groom from the estate, had been pulled from his usual services and pressed into messenger duty. The young teen boy hitched his horse in front of the Devington Village Pub and made his way in. Looking around the tables, he spotted Major Wilkins and Mr. Carlyle dining together, just as Mrs. Wilkins advised they would be.

Once at the table, he handed the folded message to Jim Wilkins. "Sir, I went to your home first. Mrs. Wilkins advised me that you were here. After she read the message she asked me to bring it to you here, that you would want to see it right away!"

As Jim opened the paper, the young lad turned to the distinguished, middle aged man dining with Major Wilkins. "Mr. Carlyle, you have the same message. It has been left at your home already this morning."

"Thank you, boy," the man said. The young groom tipped his three cornered hat and hurried out of the tavern, having more notes to deliver yet.

"What does it say, Jim?"

After having quickly perused the message, Wilkins shook his head as he passed the note to his business associate to read. "I understand why Bridget wanted me to see this immediately," he said to himself in a low voice as his friend read the note.

Mr. Carlyle folded the note up and handed it back to Jim, who quickly slipped it into his jacket pocket. "Speak of the devil," croaked Carlyle, "we are speaking of her and low and behold this important message shows itself!"

The older man went on. "So a British officer's mistress is marrying another Redcoat officer? A general nonetheless?"

"It seems so," Wilkins answered. "General Tavington was my commander before he was injured months ago. He comes from a very wealth English family. His father built up a flour mill business. When the business fell on hard times, William came home from university to step in and run the mills and completely turned the business around to where it became profitable again. He has a great head for business, I'm told."

"Oh," Carlyle answered. "Does he have the integrity that Hayden Prescott had?"

"Oh….yes," Jim lied, not knowing or having experienced commerce with Tavington before, but wanting to help his friend, Melanie, out. Wilkins had just spent the last hour trying to assuage Mr. Carlyle's reservations about doing business with "that fallen Prescott woman". He had tried to "whitewash" as many of the "facts" as he could, telling Carlyle that war makes people do things they wouldn't usually do, and that perhaps Miss Prescott felt under pressure to go with the officer and had to in order to stay alive.

Major Wilkins wasn't sure he had convinced the mutual business associate over lunch that Melanie was still a nice, sweet girl when this message arrived, further muddying the waters. Now Jim had to try to explain her sudden marriage to a notorious British general with a reputation as bad as hers. The officer decided to excuse himself and go visit Miss Prescott himself to find out exactly what was going on before making any further explanations to Mr. Carlyle.

He said goodbye to his friend, promising to meet him again soon and continue their conversation about business on another day. Wilkins rode home to his plantation as fast as he could where he found Bridget there waiting for him, as puzzled and surprised about the news as he was. Both thought it a good idea to pay a visit to Miss Prescott—and General Tavington—to find out exactly why the curious couple had decided to marry.

The Wilkins' immediately sent a message to the Prescott plantation to let them know they would be calling on the newly betrothed couple soon. The whole thing left both Major and Mrs. Wilkins shaking their heads about their friend Melanie and wondering why she would marry General Tavington while still in the midst of grief over Alex Bordon.

* * *

In the afternoon of the same day, the messengers were still out delivering the news of the Tavington and Prescott betrothal around the countryside. And as they were, Melanie had been giving William a tour of the plantation on horseback. And while General Tavington had ridden around the farm a few times, it was different this time. He looked at it differently for within a matter of days, he would be the owner and new plantation master of all this land. It seemed even more awesome to him now as he looked out over it, just as pleased with the land as he was to get a beautiful wife.

The two dismounted on a low ridge where the grapes grew. The general offered his arm to his fiancée, and she took it as they walked amongst the arbors, inspecting the vines. As they moved down the row, William dropped his arm and took Melanie's hand. They walked along quietly, hand in hand to a clearing.

Miss Prescott broke the silence. "William, will you take a mistress?" Her voice was fraught with concern.

She let go of his hand but he reached out, caught it, and drew her back to him. The officer cupped her chin and made her look up at him.

"Now why do you ask that?," queried the general.

Melanie tried to pull away from him, embarrassed now that she had broached the subject. He held her firmly in place, giving her a moment to answer.

In a quiet voice filled with shame, she replied, "Because I became Alexander's mistress. That makes me think_ you_ will have one, as well." The girl suddenly looked sad.

"Not necessarily," he soothed. "If you perform your wifely duties, then I won't want to take a mistress."

His fiancée sighed and walked away from him, a little disappointed for she would have rather heard an unequivocal 'no' as the answer, or at least a promise from him not to stray.

"Does it bother you that you're not marrying a virgin?" she asked.

William shook his head, now able to tell that his future wife was having nuptial jitters. He wanted to assuage all her fears.

"Well," he began, "I would love to deflower a virgin on my wedding night. Most men want that. I would have even settled for being the one to deflower my fiancée before the wedding night, knowing and being happy that I was the first one for her."

"I'm sorry, William," she said simply.

"Don't be," her fiancé replied. "I'm happy you consented to be my wife."

Miss Prescott looked back at him and smiled. A moment of quiet passed between the two of them.

William spoke again. "Was Peter or Alex your first?"

Melanie kept her back to Will, not wanting to show how shocked she was that he had asked her to which man she had given up her virtue. Feeling awkward, she wasn't sure what to say or do.

Before she could do or say anything, Tavington apologized. "I'm sorry, Melanie. That was an inappropriate question to ask at this time."

Hearing his apology, Miss Prescott felt somewhat better. "No….No…You should know. We are going to be married in a few days. If I don't tell you now, you will want to know later."

Melanie continued. "It was Alex. Peter proposed the day he left, and I told him I would wait for him. We didn't have time to get married or engage in anything too romantic other than a few stolen kisses. He died while away on duty."

"Alex stole my virtue," she went on, "in his tent one night while in charge on one of your missions in which you displayed me around the countryside."

To William, the young woman nearly sounded bitter, but he kept quiet and let her talk, feeling like she needed him to know.

"He…..um….found out that I fancied him," she said, her voice breaking, "and he took advantage of that, thinking I wouldn't resist. I fought him."

Miss Prescott swallowed hard, then went on. "I was hoping he would court me properly. I didn't know he was married. As I've told you before, if I'd have known about his wife, I wouldn't have become his mistress, but it was too late for my feelings when I found out."

"Who was your first?" asked Melanie.

"Oh….an older, beautiful woman named Sarah," he replied with a hint of a smile on his lips. "Father took me to a brothel when I was fifteen so that I could be taught what to do when I married."

The girl said nothing and looked out over the grapes stretching into the low valley before her. Will walked over to where the girl was and slipped his arms around her waist from behind her . He rested his chin on her shoulder as he murmured in her ear. "As I have said, I don't care that you were someone's mistress or that you are not a virgin. I adore you no matter what."

She smiled as William began to kiss her neck and ear. The girl quickly turned in his embrace to face him as they continued to kiss deeply.

After a moment, she turned back away from him, loving the feeling of him standing close behind her with his arms about her. As he kissed her neck again, he slid one of his hands up over her shoulder and inched his fingers down into the front of her loose bodice. Melanie cooed as she felt his fingers caressing her nipple beneath the material of her dress.

The girl turned herself to face him after a minute of this. She craned her head up to kiss him hard, her tongue moving slowly within his mouth. The girl felt William's hands move up to her bodice, where his fingers began to unbutton the already loose dress top.

Melanie came to her senses, wanting not to end up in his bed until their wedding night. Her hands moved up and gently stopped his.

He continued kissing the girl's neck as she spoke. "William don't!"

"Let me," he coaxed, whispering into her ear and kissing it as well.

"No,Will," she begged, "I want us to wait until our wedding evening."

She pulled out of his grasp and began to walk away from him. He reached out for the girl to pull her back, but she dodged him. "No William!"

He smiled and gave chase after her. The officer playfully grabbed the back of her skirt, then gave her rear a smack. Melanie turned back to face her teasing fiancé, acting as though she was mad, and gesturing for him to stop.

The couple teased each other with kisses and playful touches all the way back to their horses. Then they mounted their steeds and turned them in the direction of the main house.

* * *

Two days after the announcement of William and Melanie's upcoming nuptials were sent around, the Wilkins' were to join the newly engaged couple for dinner. Jim and Bridget Wilkins were both anxious to talk with Miss Prescott and find out more details.

The Wilkins' carriage pulled up to the grand veranda on the Prescott estate, to be greeted at first by the future plantation master, General Tavington, much as if he was already in possession of the estate. Melanie appeared shortly after and went with Will to meet their friends at the coach.

After the social talk and pleasantries of dinner, the four split up: Melanie and Bridget preferring to take a walk, and William and Jim taking after dinner brandies on the porch.

As Miss Prescott and Mrs. Wilkins made their way away from the house, the two were finally able to dispense with proper and polite dinner conversation, and talk freely.

"How are you doing, Melanie? I've worried so much about you since Major Bordon died."

"I'm fine, really," Miss Prescott answered bravely. Silence passed between the two women as they made their way toward a bench beneath a tree.

"I know that you miss him," Bridget spoke up.

"I do. Every single day," Melanie admitted. "I still dream about him so much. Some nights I wake up screaming if I've dreamt of his death again."

Miss Prescott sighed sadly, then went on. "I still ache for him so. I think I'll never get over his death."

"You will. It just takes time," Bridget assured. "I'm sure that starting life anew with the General will help with things."

"Yes," Tavington's fiancé said, forcing a smile.

Crossing the lane, the two ladies walked along the row of outbuildings, where the slaves and servants were putting things away for the evening, not taking notice of the two women as they worked. Melanie was eager to change the subject, afraid that she might burst into tears if she spoke of Alexander any further.

"So, how is married life," she asked as of Bridget, playfully.

"Blissful! I love Jim so much," Mrs. Wilkins exclaimed. "He admonishes me, though, for trying to do the servants' jobs."

"Well, you aren't a servant anymore," Melanie pointed out. "You're a wealthy plantation master's wife."

"Yes. But you and Jim forget that I've been a servant most all of my life; since I was very young. Not having to work takes some getting used to."

The two girls laughed at the comment, then went on with their conversation. "You two were married so quickly," Melanie commented.

"Yes," agreed Bridget. "Actually, when Major Bordon died so suddenly, it scared Jim so. He decided soon afterward that he wanted us to marry as soon as possible. So, we married at the first of February. He was given a leave of a few days to bring me home to the farm and help me settle in."

"Aye, it is a different life than that of the fort," Melanie remarked.

"Being out here, I don't get to see Jim as much as I would if I lived at the fort," Wilkins' wife lamented. "I preferred to remain there, but he wanted me at the plantation. I miss him."

Miss Prescott shook her head in agreement, sympathizing with her newlywed friend. "You two seem so happy," Melanie stated. "I'm glad."

"We are! But things are even happier now for us," Bridget announced. The two stopped walking as the former Irish servant turned to face her friend. "I'm with child!"

"Oh, Bridget!," exclaimed the young Prescott woman as she threw her arms around her old friend. "When are you due?"

"Well, I've missed three monthlies now, and am having sickness," said, thinking aloud. "I think he will be here the first of November. I'm sure he was conceived on our wedding night." Bridget's hand dropped to her belly, rubbing it.

"You seem sure that it's a boy."

"I hope so, especially for Jim," Mrs. Wilkins answered. "He wants the first child to be a boy, with more boys after that. We'd like a large family."

"Doesn't he want a girl," asked Melanie.

"Yes—eventually. But he would like mostly boys."

"Oh, I see. One girl only so that me may spoil her like a queen," cajoled the future Mrs. Tavington.

"Exactly," confirmed Bridget.

The two women laughed heartily, then began to walk again. A silence fell over them as they strolled.

"Melanie, I must admit that we were both stunned to hear of your betrothal to the General."

"Yes, I can imagine that everyone in the area shares your feelings. It was quite sudden."

The pair stopped again. Bridget took Melanie's arm and turned her to face her. "This is not like you," she pointed out with concern. "You always told me that you wanted a long, romantic, and loving courtship and engagement."

The newly engaged woman sighed, then turned away from her friend. She looked out over the horizon as she replied. "Yes, but I cannot afford that now," she answered forlornly. "The farm's business is in trouble, and it will help things if I am married. I'm sure Jim has told you how William turned his family's mill business in England around when it was failing, has he not?"

"Yes, he did," she answered. "I'm sure it will be of great help to you to have your husband running the business."

There was more silence as Melanie shuddered at her friend's comment. She hoped silently that William truly had the best interests of her late father's plantation at heart.

The two strolled on again. "Do you love him?" asked Bridget.

"No," confided Melanie, "but I am attracted to him and I have developed some affection for him. I think he has more feelings for than I him."

"He is very handsome," Melanie went on.

"That he is," Mrs. Wilkins admitted.

"My hope is that we grow to love each other," Melanie stated simply.

Bridget laughed as a memory of their times at Fort Carolina flashed across her mind. It was from a few months after they'd met, when Miss Prescott was out of death's way and on the mend. "Do you remember that day at the fort when we confessed to each other which officers we liked?"

"Yes," Melanie chuckled. "We laughed and carried on like young school girls that day. I recall that you answered 'Jim'. And now you are married to him and carrying his child!"

The women laughed again. "And you said that you liked both Major Bordon and Colonel Tavington," Bridget pointed out.

"Yes," Melanie answered as she sighed. She suddenly became thoughtful and paused. "I became Alex's mistress, and now I am marrying William Tavington."

"Funny. It's as if we chose our futures," Mrs. Wilkins alluded.

"Yes," Miss Prescott agreed. "I recollect you telling me then that Alex and William were the two most handsome, yet ill tempered officers in the fort."

Bridget frowned. "Yes…..I did. Henceforth why I was so distressed to see you fall in love with the Major. He sometimes didn't treat you in the best way."

"Yes, you're right," conceded Melanie with a defeated sigh.

Mrs. Wilkins took her friend's hands. "Which is why I'm concerned now. I fear for how General Tavington may treat you."

"I understand. But Bridget, there has been a change in him. Since he was injured and nearly died, and I believe as well, being present when Alex died, has humbled him. Indeed, I have seen a new humility in him."

"If you say so, then I believe you," Mrs. Wilkins answered. "I do hope the two of you find love." Bridget hugged Melanie, holding her tightly for a moment.

The two women sighed as they left each other's embrace. "We'd better get back to the men," Melanie urged.

"Yes," Bridget concurred. "Who knows what they have been speaking of or gossiping about."

The girls laughed. "Or conspiring," added Melanie.

The two friends turned back toward the house and began to walk along slowly, both anxious to rejoin their men. It was well known that General Tavington and Major Wilkins sometimes butted heads in the recently past months when both were in the same dragoon brigade. Each woman secretly hoped that the men had maintained the same gentlemanly demeanors during their time alone that they each displayed over dinner earlier in the evening.


	52. Chapter 52 Nuptial Nerves

**Author's note**: Again, I have written this quickly and posted it. I tried to hastily proofread it, so please excuse any errors you may find. I will try to get back soon and correct

Chapter 52 Nuptial Nerves

Major Wilkins and General Tavington stood on the porch as they watched their women walk away, laughing and smiling at each other as they did, obviously talking about silly girlish things. Jim seated himself in a comfortable rocking chair as William sat on the porch railing, leaning up against a column.

The two officers were civil and polite to each other, realizing they had better find a way to smooth the friction between them since their women were best friends. As well, too, that Tavington realized that the Wilkins' winery was the biggest customer of the Prescott plantation.

The men talked a little about business, but mostly of the army. William took the opportunity to get caught up on the latest gossip from the fort and within the now fractured dragoon unit, which had been folded into Tarleton's legion. Tavington was glad to hear of the latest happenings at the fort from someone who resided there most of the time.

There was a silence as a servant came out to refill their snifters with more brandy. With this, Wilkins took the opportunity to change the subject.

"Bridget is with child," he announced.

"Well, hear hear!," Tavington replied with a slight smiled. He stretched from where he was to clank his glass against Jim's in an impromptu toast. "Congratulations!"

"Thank you. We're happy…..and excited."

"As well you should be," William commented.

"The baby should be here at the beginning of November," informed Jim. "I hope I'm back by then."

"Back?", queried Will.

"Yes. There are rumors that we will be moving as far north as Virginia," he stated. "The Lord General wants to take back as much as he can. I assume they will send the cavalry with them."

"Yes, Commander Tarleton had alluded to as much lately," commented William. Tavington thought to himself that with his health getting better each day, that he may be called upon to move north with them, as well.

The general changed the subject. He began, slowly, measuring his words. "Major….Jim… I'd like to thank you for helping me away from the field at that battle at those Cowpens in the winter."

"You're welcome," Major Wilkins answered, "but there is no need to thank me. I was just doing my duty. I could not leave my commander behind to fall into enemy hands."

Jim tried hard to sound sincere and humble because he wasn't telling the whole truth. When he'd seen Tavington injured on the field that day, he had been inclined to leave him there to die as Wilkins detested many of the 'methods' his dragoon commander used on the colonials. Jim also had never been able to forgive or excuse Tavington for ordering him to throw the first torch at Pembroke Village, which burned the church and the entire population within it.

But, it was this very thought that flashed across Jim's mind as he left the field. Always able to keep his mind and not let adrenaline overtake all his thinking, Wilkins made the decision to help Tavington for his own selfish motive. He reasoned how damaging it might be to his business if the colonel fell into rebel hands. Wilkins could only guess what secrets Tavington might give up amidst a torture session or in bargaining for freedom as he knew the man to sometimes be ruthless. Jim couldn't risk the damning information of his actions at Pembroke making its way across the countryside—he would be shunned and no one would want to do any business with him.

"I'm sure you've heard that some people are refusing to do business with Melanie—well, and now with us—because they think of her as a fallen woman since she was Bordon's mistress," Tavington probed.

"Yes, I was distressed to hear of it," Jim answered.

"I adore Melanie and hate to see her so upset over a possible failure of a business that her beloved father worked so hard to build," Tavington commented. "I know that becoming a married woman will help repair some of that damage."

"Yes, I'm sure it will," agreed Jim.

"However, there remains the matter of my own…..uh….reputation," Tavington began, "which is why I'd like to ask a favor of you."

"Of course."

"Might I ask you to 'whitewash' my reputation….uh…sort of….diminish…some of the things I did or ordered as a dragoon commander?," Tavington asked humbly, yet with dignity. "While it helps Melanie that she is getting married, the fact that she is marrying 'Tavington the Butcher' won't help things."

Jim Wilkins said nothing, instead listening intently to the favor being requested of him.

"Maybe you could say that many of the things I did or ordered were just rumor or propaganda spread by the rebels," Will suggested. "Perhaps you could blame some of our actions on the Lord General?"

"Sir?" Jim spoke up in a puzzled tone. Again, he could not believe he was being asked to participate in a lie. However, he quickly remembered how he saved the colonel for his own selfish intentions, so he could not cast any stones.

"Anything that you could do to help Melanie and I become a….favorable…couple would help," William requested. "It would help our plantation. Melanie loved her father so much and wishes the farm to succeed. My late father-in-law worked so hard to make it profitable."

Jim said nothing, trying to keep a poker face. Inside, he was secretly aghast that he was being asked nicely to lie.

"Think of it as a favor for Melanie more so than me," Tavington advised. "I know the two of you are close and grew up together, and I know you care for her and this plantation."

"Yes, I do," Jim admitted. "I understand. I will write to our mutual associates and assuage their fears and doubts right away."

"Thank you…..for Melanie's sake," Tavington said, mustering some humility. Inside he was relieved, secretly not wanting to start married life with a failing business. He knew Major Wilkins' reputation and word to be good throughout the countryside and with commerce in the area.

Jim took this opportunity to help himself and his plantation out, as well. "Might I ask a favor of you as well, William," he asked. He found it hard to call his former commander, and current upper echelon officer by his first name, but knew it necessary to try to have a friendship and business relationship with his wife's bestfriend's fiancé.

"Would you do the same for me?," Wilkins requested, continuing on. "Would you ….diffuse….dome of the things I did as a dragoon? In particular, never to reveal what I did at Pembroke."

"That was not your fault," Tavington pointed out. "You were acting under my orders against your own morals and judgment."

"Yes, but the countryside and my customers do not know that," Wilkins stated. "There would be severe consequences to my plantation if they knew of my actions at Pembroke village."

William rose from where he sat on the porch railing. "Should anyone ever speak of it, I will deny your participation in it. I will blame the whole incident on Lord Cornwallis—by his order. I will say that you were only there because we were in the vicinity at the time; that we could do nothing and were helpless to standby and watch."

Major Wilkins rose from his seat. With that, the two officers shook hands on their mutual deal each agreeing to shield or diminish one another's misdeed and reputations. About this time the women appeared, again laughing and smiling, making their way back to the veranda to join the men.

Hours later, the Wilkins' bid goodbye to their neighbor and the newly engaged couple, satisfied that both were entering freely into the decision to marry. They were happy that Miss Prescott seemed to be getting the best that she could for a husband in the short time frame that she had to do it in. Bridget and Jim hoped that the future General and Mrs. Tavington would eventually find love and understanding.

* * *

A few nights later, William, feeling in a rather randy mood, tried to find some sort of excuse to get Melanie into a compromising position, hoping she would relent and let him get under her skirt before the wedding night. Having her in a bedroom down the hall did nothing to quell his arousal. After a moment of pacing his lonely room, an idea finally came to him. The general recalled how vulnerable to girl had been upon awaking from a horrid nightmare about Bordon, so he'd use that as the ruse to get into her bed.

The officer padded down the hallway to Melanie's room. He crept through the door and inside to her bedside, where he gazed at her sleeping soundly. William took a breath, then shook his fiancée awake.

"Melanie? Melanie? Are you alright?"

The girl opened her eyes sleepily, trying to orient herself. When she realized it was er fiancé standing over her, she sat bolt upright, worried that something had happened.

"William? What is it?"

"I thought I heard you scream," he lied. "I was worried that you had another nightmare."

"You must be hearing things," Melanie replied. "I'm fine. I was sleeping well."

"I'm sorry, darling, that I woke you," he apologized. An awkward moment of silence passed between the general and Miss Prescott.

After a minute, William broke the quiet with a request. "May I sit with you for a few minutes?" He took Melanie's hand and kissed it softly, looking lovingly at her as he did.

That look of his always melted the young woman. How could she refuse him? "Of course you may," she answered.

The two remained still, quietly sitting in each other's company. During the stillness, Melanie suddenly felt playful and impish. She decided she would like to 'test' her fiancé and his will.

Miss Prescott pushed back the coverlet, exposing her nightgown clad body. She pulled her legs out from beneath the sheets and up close to her body, folding her legs under her. William shot her a puzzled look as she did this, but said nothing. He cocked his head to the side as he continued to watch her actions.

The young woman moved slowly toward her fiancé and cautiously slid one of her legs across his legs where he sat on her bed. In a moment, she had climbed onto his lap and was seated astride him, facing the man with a demure look of innocence on her face. She reached down and slowly pulled her gown up her legs as she shifted upon his lap. As she moved, Melanie felt his arousal against her through his night shirt. The two remained quiet as they stared intently at one another in this sensuous position.

After a moment of this quiet torture from his betrothed, the general could no longer stand it. His lips met Melanie's, kissing her slowly as he threaded his fingers into the blonde waves of her hair. She did not push him away, but kissed him back. Soon her wet mouth outlined his jaw with kisses, blazing a trail to his neck.

He sighed as the young woman kissed his neck and nibbled his ear. Will's hands found Melanie's, where he took them in his. The officer guided her hands up to her bodice and put her fingers on the drawstring of it.

"Show me that you want me," he whispered first in her ear, then kissed it.

Miss Prescott let out a light, nearly inaudible breath, then pulled slowly on the string. William rewarded her action with a soft, sensual kiss as the string came loose. His lips found their way to her other ear where he murmured, "I want you to take it off."

Melanie sighed. She looked into William's lust filled eyes as she pushed the delicate garment down off her shoulders. The young woman heard her fiancé release a tension filled breath just before he kissed her again.

As they kissed, his hands cupped her bare breasts, eliciting a sigh from Melanie. She let his hands do as they pleased and she soon began to feel a soft heat building on her skin, making it flushed. His fingers rolled and gently pinched her nipples, making her want him.

William kissed at her neck as his fingers worked her breasts. In turn, Melanie kissed his neck and nibbled his ears, firing the officer with even more excitement. After another moment, Will pushed his fiancé down onto her back on her bed. His knees pushed her legs apart as his head dipped to her chest.

"Oh…..mmm….," she sighed as she felt William's mouth on her nipple. He sucked one gently, then moved to the other one, taking his time teasing it with his lips and tongue. And though this felt good to the girl, she came to her senses, stopping her fiance's actions.

"Will….we have to stop," she whispered as she gently pushed a stunned Tavington off of her. The girl sat up and looked at him. "We can't. What if we are caught together in my bed before we are married?"

A sexually frustrated William spoke up. "Melanie, I do not see what this matters. We have had relations once before….in your room at the fort….._you_ seduced me."

"Yes, I remember," Melanie said, "but I was angry with Alex when that happened—"

"That doesn't matter," an irritated Tavington shot back. "All that matters is that we _did_ have relations once, and just days ago I had my hands under your skirts and my fingers inside you, pleasuring you before we were interrupted. As I recall, you were enjoying it."

"Yes, Will….but—"

"Then why stop now? So we aren't married yet. We will be in just days."

"Can't you wait until then?", asked Melanie.

"No. As a man, I do have needs," William informed.

There was a silence between the two. Will spoke up, breaking the quiet.

"The next time this happens, I am not going to stop," he warned.

Melanie knew he was frustrated. The girl feared he would end up in the tents of the whores down in the camp if she did not find a way to pacify him.

After a moment, she put her hand on his cheek, then kissed him softly. She kissed him a little harder with no resistance from the officer, then she pushed him down onto the bed on his back. William smiled to himself as they kissed, pleased now thinking his fiancée would soon be straddling him, ready to ride him on to satisfaction.

Instead, William felt Melanie push his nightshirt up to his belly. Then he let out a stunned breath as he felt her hand caressing his hardened member. Her fingers outlined and explored it, nearly driving he officer mad. When he could take it no more, he reached downwards and found her hand, where he closed it around the shaft. Her fist gently squeezed the hardness, eliciting a deep groan from the man.

The young woman began to move her fist up and down his cock slowly, as he relaxed on his back. As she kissed his neck, her lips soon found his ear where she murmured, "Will this do for now, darling?"

"Yes….oh Melanie….oh…" he moaned as her kisses and the action of hand incited so much passion within him. After a moment, she tightened her grip a bit and moved his hand a little faster upon his hardness. The girl kissed his mouth again as she felt his body going rigid, and she knew he was getting close to the edge. Her fist moved in long fast strokes on his member, finally bringing the man to completion.

Tavington groaned as he came, semen spilling out in spurts onto his belly and over Melanie's fist. She loosened her grip on him as she felt the throbbing beneath her fingers, and soothed it with soft strokes.

"Ah…thank you darling," he murmured in a satisfied whisper. They kissed again passionately as she deftly reached for her handkerchief on the nightstand. She lovingly wiped Will clean as they continued to kiss.

In a moment, the couple kissed goodnight, and William left her room, satisfied for the moment. Melanie laid back in bed, relieved that her fiancé did not resort to visiting the whores tents to obtain his relief.

* * *

It was the morning of the day before the wedding. In the small formal parlor of the manor house, General Tavington and his good friend Colonel Banastre Tarleton were sprawled out crazily, both passed out from a 'last night' of bachelorhood.

William opened his eyes slowly, then clamped them shut again, the morning light feeling like pins and needles in his eyeballs. He raised his hand to shield his eyes and opened them again. The officer looked about and realized he was at home now. The general moved his yes to the side and caught sight of Ban, face down on the floor, his limbs twisted into crazy positions. Then he became aware of his head pounding, feeling like it would split open.

Tavington closed his eyes again and tried to clear his head of the loud pounding, wanting to remember the previous evening. After taking a couple of breaths, he kept his eyes closed, and gritty memories came back. He recalled riding off to Devington Mills last night with Banastre to have a boys-about-town evening before his wedding in two days. The general recollected that they'd found a card game, and as usual, Banastre ended losing more money than he'd intended to lose, leaving William to cover the loss. Then they went to the local brothel, where Tarleton purchased the two prettiest doxies for the night for William.

At the bawdy house, Will recalled being alone with the two whores. He watched them pleasure each other in turn, then they satisfied him the rest of the evening. During the gambling and the whoring, great amounts of alcohol flowed freely. Somehow, the two made it back to the estate, where both promptly blacked out after a night of gambling, drinking, and whoring.

Will kept his eyes closed and hoped that Melanie would not find out what had transpired. He tried to go back to sleep when he thought he heard the rustle of a skirt. Indeed, Miss Prescott had padded into the room quietly to check on the men after knowing they'd spent the evening out.

Melanie raised her skirt slightly and stepped over a prostrate Tarleton on the floor. Once she made it to the couch, she sighed as she gazed down at her hungover fiancé. Taking pity on his condition, she placed a cool, damp rag on his forehead. As she turned to leave, William barely caught her hand, urging her back to him.

"Thank you, Melanie," he said in a quiet, hoarse voice.

"Good morning, William," she said as she sat on the very edge of the divan next to him. He shifted slightly to allow her to room. "Before you say anything else," she whispered, "I don't even want to know what you did last night."

"I don't remember," Tavington lied, preferring her not to know.

"Well, whatever it was, I forgive you," she said, thinking his horrid hangover was hard enough on him. The girl leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "Would you like me to help you up to your bedroom?"

"Yes, please," he answered. "I think I will recover much better there."

Melanie gently helped her fiancé up off the couch. She took his arm over her shoulder, placed hers around his waist to steady him, and helped him walk.

"Careful. Lift you feet here," she said as they stepped over a sleeping Banastre Tarleton.

They stopped before just before the door. "Um…Will…what would you like me to do with him," she asked, referring to his blacked out fellow officer.

"Nothing. Leave him be," said Tavington. "He will recover. He always does."

From there, the Miss Prescott carefully helped the general up the stairs to his room, where she sweetly tucked him in bed. She pulled the drapes shut in the room, allowing his eyes a much needed respite from the light. "I'll wake you later," she said, giving him another delicate kiss on the cheek and placing a cool wet rag over his eyes.

With that, Melanie left the room, closing the door behind her, leaving her fiancé to recover from his night of revelry.

* * *

Miss Prescott woke General Tavington late in the afternoon, allowing him time to wash up and change for dinner. The two enjoyed a lovely dinner alone, their last before they would marry tomorrow. Soon afterwards, it was time for the couple to part, unable to see each other until the wedding.

As the two stood enjoying glasses of wine after dinner in the small parlor, they were interrupted by one of the servants.

"The carriage is ready for the General, Miss," he said as he stood in the doorway.

"Thank you. I'll be there momentarily," William answered.

The officer walked to the door of the parlor and closed it. He made his way back to Melanie, took her in his arms and gave her a long, sensual kiss.

"I can't believe you are sending me away tonight," he teased as he held her against his body.

It had been planned ahead of time that Will and Banastre would be spend the night on the neighbouring Wilkins' plantation, so as not to see each other prior to the wedding ceremony. Tavington had asked Colonel Tarleton to stand up with him as his best man.

"You are not allowed to see me before we get married," she cooed. "Just don't get into any trouble this evening with Commander Tarleton."

"I won't," Tavington said. "I'm sure he will want to play some cards. But if I see a glass of Ale or hard spirits again tonight after last evening, I am sure I will become sick!"

"Well, just to make sure you don't decide to wander this evening," she said is a seductive voice, "I shall give you something to remember me, and hope that after this, you will have no excuse to carouse."

Melanie kissed her fiancé deeply, caressing his manhood through the material of his breeches. Will reached downward and kneaded her bottom through her skirts as she did.

After a moment, his fiancée pulled away and knelt on her knees before him. She reached up and slowly unbuttoned his breeches, freeing his hardened member.

"Oh…..you are a vixen," said Tavington as he smiled down at her.

The young woman teased his member with her hand at first, then took his hardness into her mouth. She teased it sensually with her lips and tongue, making Will groan with pleasure.

The officer reached downward and wove his fingers into Melanie's blonde curls, holding her head. "Oh…..Melanie….darling…..I won't stray," he gasped, "I promise."

The girl continued to orally pleasure the man, bringing him ever closer to satisfaction. And he went about urging her on. "Oh, that's it, darling. Take it down your throat."

Melanie was glad to be pleasing her future husband, and hoped this would satisfy him for the evening. And in just a moment, she felt his legs go rigid and his hands woven into her hair tighten and she knew he was close.

In an instant, he came, calling her name, and loosing his seed down her throat. The girl reached over and took a swig of wine, erasing the pungent taste of his semen as William closed his trousers back up.

"I will remember that all night long, my dear," he said as he kissed her.

The two then walked hand in hand to the front door, to find Ban waiting for William at the coach, flirting with one of the camp followers.

"Its about time, Tav," Ban jeered, "I thought I'd be waiting the rest of the evening on you!"

"Please try to find some patience as I tell my fiancée goodbye, Ban," Will called back.

"Yeah, yeah," Tarleton replied as he went back to his amorous flirtations.

Tavington took Melanie in his arms on the veranda, not caring who saw them. The two kissed for a moment, then held each other in an embrace.

"I will miss your company this evening, Will," Melanie said as she laid her head on his chest.

The officer reached down, cupped her chin, gently pulling her head upwards to look into his eyes. He placed his forehead against hers. "I cannot wait to see you tomorrow in your wedding dress. I am sure you will be the most beautiful sight I have ever seen."

With that, the two kissed passionately again, not wanting to part.

"Ah, c'mon and get it over with!" Colonel Tarleton exclaimed. "You two will have time enough for romance tomorrow evening! The cards await us, Tav!"

Melanie broke away from the kiss with a small chuckle. "You'd better go," she said.

They kissed one last time before walking to the coach together. Melanie looked nervous and apprehensive. The two men got in, with William opening the window, craning his head out, and kissing Melanie another time before leaving. He took her hand, which was soon ripped away as the coach jolted forward, on to the Wilkins' farm.

Will waved at his fiancee and called back to her. "Do not worry yourself about anything," he shouted. "We will be fine!"

Melanie Prescott hoped he was right.

*****************

**Author's note: **Alright, faithful readers, the moment you have been patiently waiting for is near. Next chapter......The wedding and wedding night!


	53. Chapter 53 A Fitting Union

**Alright, here you go with just a couple of hours of Valentine's Day left (US time Eastern Standard). A wedding, fitting for the Valentine holiday! Enjoy.**

Chapter 53 A Fitting Union

How long had it been since she'd slipped into her bed? Two hours? Three hours? Miss Prescott lay in bed looking up at the dark ceiling unable to sleep. The nerves of her impending wedding kept her awake tossing and turning. Melanie could take no more of this and finally got up.

The girl didn't know what to do with herself. She paced about her room for a few minutes before seating herself at her vanity. The young woman lit the candle nearby as she sighed, looking around the dimly lit room.

Melanie looked at her jewelry box for a moment, then reluctantly opened it. She found Alexander Bordon's lock of cinnamon red hair tied with one of the black ribbons he'd used to wrap his queue. In another compartment tucked neatly away was the ruby "wedding" ring he had given her, off her finger and residing in the jewel box just where William had promised to put it after he'd slipped it off her finger two weeks ago.

The young woman brought the ginger colored tress of Alex's hair to her nose and breathed in his scent—she still remembered what he smelled like. Then her fingers traced the ring, touching it lightly. She had willed herself not to look at these relics from her dead lover since she'd become engaged to General Tavington days ago. And now, just had she had done recently, she willed herself to put them back away, telling herself it was ridiculous to look at items from the past when she was starting a new life of marriage in just hours.

The girl decided to tuck them into the bottom drawer of her jewelry box. After she placed them gently into the drawer, she found that she could not shut the drawer all the way. Obviously something had become lodged or jammed into the back of the compartment. Miss Prescott pulled the drawer all the way out and placed it aside on the dresser, then slipped her fingers in all the way to the back of the box. They felt a piece of wadded material and puzzled, Melanie pulled it from the box.

It the light, she unfolded the material and found it was one of her handkerchiefs. She studied the delicate white material and the red stains upon it. Her pulse began to race and her breathing labor as she held the thing.

Then, memories flooded back to her. She remembered holding Major Bordon in her arms just after she'd found him lying on the ground that morning at the creek when the dragoons were ambushed. The girl recalled wiping the coughed up blood off his mouth and chin with this handkerchief. After Alex died and once Melanie had returned to the fort, she recollected finding the kerchief shoved into the pocket of her blood stained dress, falling to her knees in tears as she did.

Miss Prescott thought about the last time she'd seen the item: Bridget handing it to her after she'd washed it a couple of times, apologizing to Melanie that she could not get all of the blood stains out of it. She recalled asking Miss Kilpatrick to hide it away from her as she could not bear to discard it yet. Obviously, the young woman had stumbled upon the place the Irish servant had hidden it.

Melanie looked at the blood stains again, then fell apart. She laid her head upon her folded arms on her dresser and wept for a moment. Then the girl scooped up the ring, ribbon, and the lock of hair, and folded them into the stained handkerchief. The young woman then deposited herself back in bed, holding Bordon's items close to her in both her hands.

"Oh God, Alex…I still miss you so much," she sobbed. "I'm sorry. I still love _you_ and I am marrying _William_ tomorrow."

After a couple of deep breaths, she continued to cry. "I feel like I'm betraying you."

The girl rolled over in bed to the other side. After another moment of weeping, she sat up. "Oh God, what am I doing? I can't marry William—I still love you, Alex."

Melanie laid back down, lifting the handkerchief to her lips and kissing it gently. "Oh Alexander, please forgive me!" With that, Miss Prescott pulled the covers up around her chin. She was awake a while longer, nerves and sorrow not giving her any peace. Then mercifully, after some unknown amount of time had passed, she cried herself to sleep, still clutching Major Bordon's mementos in her hand tightly.

* * *

The mid May day was warm, but thankfully not humid. Melanie had caught a glimpse of the wedding guests milling about in the shade of the large trees by the gazebo and sucked in a deep breath when she saw that there were so many of them. From another window, she saw all the many carriages and wagons from the guests parked to and fro up and down the lane and the lawn that she could not even begin to count them. And now, just moments before the wedding, her housemaids Diedre and Alice were helping her to finish dressing when there was a knock at the door.

The door opened admitting Mrs. Wilkins through and into the room. "I'll help Miss Prescott finish up. Thank you," she said, dismissing the servants.

Bridget spied a half drunk cup of tea on the dresser, then spoke to the servants as they were leaving. "Would you please send up a glass of wine?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Diedre answered.

"Oh, Melanie, you look beautiful!"

"I do?"

"Yes!"

Miss Prescott's dress had been made fairly quickly but turned out wonderfully. It was ivory and silver satin, trimmed with ivory lace and a bit of blue gathers and small ruffles of silk. The sleeves fell to just below her elbows and the dress scooped in front, revealing ample cleavage. The bodice boasted a very long row of small, material covered buttons closing it in front, enough to frustrate her new husband should his fingers take on the task of unfastening the dress later this evening. Her blonde hair had been swept up with a few tendrils of curls escaping and cascading down her neck.

"Here," Bridget said, handing a pretty bouquet of fresh flowers to the bride, "The General sent these up for you to carry today."

Melanie brought the beautiful bunch of assorted flowers in different shades to her nose. They smelled lovely and were tied with ribbons of blue and lace. There was a knock at the door as the two friends were looking over the nosegay.

Bridget answered the door, careful to make sure it wasn't General Tavington trying to sneak a quick glance at his bride prior to the ceremony. Instead, the maid Alice passed the glass of wine through the door that Mrs. Wilkins had ordered to be sent up.

"Thank you," she said. The Irish woman set the glass on a nearby table and turner her attentions back to Miss Prescott. She watched for a moment as Melanie tried to put her veil on, but her hands were too shaky to place it straight and neat.

"Here, let me do that," offered Bridget.

"Thanks," answered Melanie softly.

Mrs. Wilkins took the wreath of vine and colorful flowers, complete with veil and ribbon strands attached, and placed it gently on the bride - to- be's head. She adjusted it slightly, straightening it, then pinned it securely in place. The wreath crowned the bridal outfit, the flowers and vine reminding all that the bride grew up on a country plantation.

Bridget turned Miss Prescott around so that she could look at herself in the full length mirror. "Oh, Melanie, you look beautiful," she fawned over her. "The General will want to be naughty with you right away instead of attending his own wedding reception."

"Bridget!" gasped the bride in shock.

"Well, he won't be able to keep his hands away from you," she affirmed.

Melanie rolled her eyes and sighed.

"Very well, then. I will come back in a few moments when they are ready for you," the Irish woman informed as she headed toward the door. As she placed her hand on the doorknob, she glanced back at the bride-to-be, who was staring back at her with a look of desperation on her face.

"Bridget, can you think of any reason why I shouldn't get married today?" Melanie asked with total fear in her voice. The bride had a thoroughly panicked look about her. " Any reason at all why I shouldn't marry William?"

Miss Prescott was near tears, desperately trying to find a reason to run away from her own wedding. Nerves had obviously gotten to the young woman.

"Oh, Melanie," exclaimed a worried Mrs. Wilkins as she rushed back to her friend's side. She sat Miss Prescott gently down on the bed and grabbed her handkerchief as it looked like the girl would burst into tears at any second.

"You're just having a bit of wedding day nerves," soothed Bridget. She took Melanie's hands, sandwiching them between her own. "You know, even though Jim and I were deeply in love on our wedding day, I was still very nervous."

Mrs. Wilkins continued. "It's only natural to feel afraid," she assured. "Your life will be changing, but I think for the better. I believe you will enjoy having a husband securely at your side. It will be a blessing for him to help run the plantation."

Melanie said nothing, still visibly trembling. She shook her head 'yes', but still seemed unsure.

"Here, take a drink of wine," Bridget said, handing Melanie the goblet, "It will help calm your nerves."

After Miss Prescott sipped some wine, her friend got up to leave again. "Melanie, I am confident that you and the general will grow to love each other."

Melanie looked resigned and calm with Bridget's words, so the Irish woman took her leave of the girl. Now alone in her room, waiting to be married, Miss Prescott sat back down at her dresser. She found Bordon's blood stained handkerchief, his ring, ribbon and tress of ginger colored hair and pulled them from her jewelry box again, after having slept holding them in her hand last night. The young bride-to-be touched each item lovingly, then wrapped them all back up on the lacy handkerchief. She slipped it down the front of her bodice, where it would reside discreetly in her bountiful cleavage, so that she could carry her dead lover close to her heart as she married his former commander.

* * *

The main door of the house opened allowing Miss Prescott to step out onto the veranda. Major Wilkins quickly ascended the steps up to meet the bride. He had been asked by her to escort her down the aisle to William at the ceremony, and the man, her childhood friend and neighbor, was glad to oblige. Melanie took his arm and the two headed down the steps.

As they crossed the lawn, they neared the small chamber group of musicians from Camden, who were playing 'Bach's Orchestra Suite Number 3 Air On the G String' as they walked toward the pavilion. Melanie held tightly to Jim's hand, as they neared the large gathering of friends, fighting back her own tears of fear and nerves.

The two stopped at the edge of the congregation of people where the pathway to the gazebo began. Melanie looked up from her bouquet of flowers and caught her first close look at William and sucked in a deep breath. The young woman thought that he had never looked more handsome. He was dressed in his red, long coated general's uniform complete with blue trim. The skirt of the long coat had not yet been buttoned back and fell below his knees onto his finely polished black leather boots. The gold buttons of his uniform and the gold gorget that hung just below his neck stock seemed to glitter brightly in the sun. Even the epaulets on his shoulders seemed brighter and crisper than usual. He held his hat below his arm.

Next to him stood one of his closest friends, Colonel Banastre Tarleton. He wore his red and green dragoon uniform which never looked more stunning and clean. Of course, Miss Prescott had been used to seeing the men in everyday situations, in which the uniforms would become stained with the red dirt of the Carolinas, as well as brown dust and mud.

Jim looked down at Miss Prescott, who was visibly scared and nervous. He whispered down into her ear, "You will be fine," then smiled at her. She forced a smile back up at him as the two began the walk to the pavilion steps, where her groom awaited.

William was taken aback with just how beautiful his bride looked. He always thought Miss Prescott was pretty, but she was exceptionally so today. And when she reached the steps of the gazebo, Tavington winked at her, giving her a gentle smile as well.

"Friends, although a war is raging about us, happiness can still be found," the minister began. "And so, we are gathered here today to witness the union of a man and woman into the estate of holy matrimony: the marriage of this woman, Miss Melanie Worthe Prescott, to this man, Brigadier General William Caldwell Tavington."

Melanie seemed to hear only every other word said for her heart was beating loudly in her ears. Her knee was shaking beneath her skirt making her wonder if it would give out and down she'd go. The girl tried to slow her breathing down to calm herself, only able to suck in a half breath at a time.

The minister continued on. "Who gives this woman for marriage?"

"I do, in the stead of her late father," Jim Wilkins answered. With that he presented the bride to the groom, putting Melanie's hand into General Tavington's. Wilkins then smiled at his pretty Irish wife, Bridget, before moving to stand with the rest of the congregation.

With that, Melanie handed her bouquet to Mrs. Wilkins, her matron of honor, to hold for her as William passed his hat to Ban to hold for him. Will securely took hold of Miss Prescott and helped her up the steps of the gazebo to where the pastor was awaiting them. Once in front of the minister, under the cover of the pavilion, Melanie's mind went blank. The drumming of her nervous heart in her ears seemed to obscure anything the minister said, and nerves filled her head, leaving it swimming in confusion. Afterward, she would remember hardly anything of the ceremony.

William must have felt Melanie trembling for he bent his tall frame downwards and murmured something reassuring in her ear as the minister spoke, though Melanie could not hear him for the loud pounding of her heart. Her arm was hooked tightly though his, but he reached across his body and took her hand that rested on his arm in his, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Before she knew it, she was turned facing William, speaking the marital vows. She would also later not be able to recall these due to her nerves.

Next she knew, Will had slipped the wedding ring on to her finger. Then the two turned to kiss each other, keeping the kiss romantic yet respectable. Then she thought she heard the minister speaking again.

"Friends, please allow me to present to you General and Mrs. William Tavington."

Melanie looked out from the gazebo over the people gathered to see them applauding the union politely. Then she felt William holding her arm securely, escorting her safely back down the stairway. At the bottom, Mrs. Wilkins and Colonel Tarleton waited for them, where they would be the first to congratulate the new couple.

Melanie took the bouquet back from Bridget as they hugged. Ban handed William his tricornered hat after shaking his fellow commander's hand. Will put his hat on his head before offering his arm again to his new bride. From there, the newlyweds made their way down the path through the crowd toward the garden for the reception where they would receive their guests. The chamber musicians played Handel's 'Largo from Xerxes' as the couple left.

The reception was filled with music, wine, much food, and dancing. Melanie was reunited with many friends of her family that she had not seen in years. She stayed stoic as throughout the course of the reception many different people made toasts to the couple, almost always including a wish for many children. General Tavington squeezed her hand a couple of times and whispered, "Be brave. Remember that they don't know the situation," referring to the young woman's inability to conceive, a fact only known by a handful of their friends.

William spent the time moving through the crowd, meeting the plantation's customers and business associates as well as other neighbors in the area, charming them all, doing his best to start repairing the damage of Melanie's reputation and what it had done to the business. Will, although at his wedding, knew that business ever loomed even amidst pleasure. He knew that the future of the plantation affected the future of the new marriage.

The new Mrs. Tavington watched her husband as he moved through the large group using his charm. She also watched with apprehension as he seemed so much in control on the business level. The girl had only witnessed his control in a military situation. The general's security and confidence strangely seemed something for her to fear.

During the course of the reception, a few rather fierce card games had developed at the behest of Banastre. For once, he was winning money and playing conservatively, knowing that he not dare ask William to cover his losses at the groom's own wedding!

Colonel Tarleton worked the crowd as hard as his newly married friend had, but catered to the women present. The charming young cavalry commander soon had a bevy of young ladies gathered about him, laughing heartily at everything he said. When the women dispersed for the meal, a particularly beautiful girl stayed behind the rest, lingering with the officer. Ban was only too happy to lavish the girl with the meal, Colonel Tarleton and the girl managed to slip away from the reception.

After the meal, guests called for a formal toast to be made by the best man, who had mysteriously his presence needed, several of the servants were dispatched to find the dragoon commander. General Tavington went as well, having a sneaking suspicion just where his friend might be and what he may be doing.

After a few minutes of searching, it was William who located his friend. He found Ban in the barn, inside a secluded horse stall. The erratic breathing and whispering of lovers led the groom right to the pen.

"Uh….Ban…..," William said as he knocked softly on the wood of the enclosure.

"Come back later, Tav," Banastre grunted from within the booth, "I'm indisposed right now."

The high wood of the stall obscured the view, but the general didn't need a view to know what was going on in there. Commander Tarleton had a pretty young brunette up against a wall, her skirts hiked up and her legs wrapped tightly about Ban's waist. They kissed deeply as the red haired colonel thrust away within the girl, the wall helping to hold and steady the girl.

"Well then, when you are no longer indisposed," Will began, "would you please grace us with your presence and perform a toast for my new wife and myself?"

"Yes……..I'd be delighted," Ban called back, not missing a stroke with the young beauty impaled on his hardened manhood.

"Oh…._colonel_…..OH!," the unknown young woman's voice rang out from within, her voice laced with lust.

"Uh……oohh…..ah…..mmmm…..," stammered Ban in the throes of passion, "I'll be there momentarily, Tav!"

William rolled his eyes and gave a frustrated sigh. Although it didn't surprise him that his womanizing friend could bag a girl at a friend's wedding in just a short amount of time and have a roll in the hay with her equally as quickly.

In a few moments after Tavington had rejoined the wedding guests, Banastre strolled in, his uniform in immaculate condition—nothing out of place. None of the crowd—save for William—would have guessed that the young officer had just been caught with his breeches down.

Colonel Tarleton sauntered up to the main table where General and Mrs. Tavington were seated. He picked up the full wine glass in front of his empty spot, then deftly climbed up to a spot on a decorative brick wall in the garden.

"Ladies and gentlemen, my fellow officers, friends, family, and of course, William and Melanie," he began with a grin on his face. "Tav has been a close friend of mine the last few years as we've served together in his Majesty's cavalry. He and the new missus have been through much already for both their young lives, which makes this a fitting union."

Ban looked out over the faces in the crowd as he spoke, then turned back to look at the newlyweds. "I believe that my friend here is the luckiest man in the world. He has caught the prettiest, kindest, and most loving lass in South Carolina, as well as from one of the most esteemed families in the area. With that said, would everyone please raise a glass with me?"

The dragoon colonel looked out over the sea of wine glasses now raised high, and went on, with all turning their attention to the newly married couple. "To William and Melanie, may you two have many happy and prosperous years together, and may there be a few miracles along the way."

* * *

**Author's notes: Gazebo and Pavilion mean same thing in 18th century.**

**Gorget: A part of an oficer's uniform. For more details, please look up the meaning yourself--too much/detailed for me to write it here.**

**Melanie's and William's middle names: The bridal couple's middle names may seem a bit unusual. Since both were oldest children in their respective families both bear (at least for the purpose of this story) their mother's maiden names as middle names. This was a common practice of the time. Sometimes the middle name may also have been a family surname from an ancestor. Sometimes even a surname from an ancestor or the mother's maiden name could have been given to a male child as a first name.**

**Wedding dress colors: In the 18th century, blue and silver were popular wedding dress colors. Even red was worn, as red symbolized a woman's new independence from her family. White wasn't the "typical" wedding dress color until the middle of the 19th century. This info obtained from a couple of different websites specializing in historical clothing and 18th century weddings.**


	54. Chapter 54 Wedding Night Spat

Chapter 54 Wedding Night Spat

As sunset approached, many of the Tavington's wedding guests bid farewell and scurried out quickly, only too anxious to leave the newlyweds alone. The Wilkins were among the last to leave, satisfied that the wedding had gone off without a hitch and that their friends seemed happy.

Melanie watched from the veranda as her husband thanked his close friend, Colonel Tarleton, for standing witness with him today. She sighed heavily as she watched Ban, who'd had too much to drink, trying to stay upright as he congratulated the General again. Much to Mrs. Tavington's dismay, the popular colonel was now being held up by prostitutes, one on each side of him, surely ready to take advantage of the drunken officer and pocket all his money for a night with them. She had a feeling that her husband's fellow commander might pass out from the alcohol he'd consumed.

Ban, between both the whores and leaning heavily on them, was congratulating the groom in his own way. "Well, Tav, I hope you're happy," he jeered, "Marriage is going to put a damper on your ability to get the girls!"

"Whoring is overrated," Will answered back with a crooked smile.

"But it is so much fun!," Banastre slurred. "You know that you've ruined your life!"

"I'll take that chance," William answered his drunken friend.

"Now who am I going to have to gamble or whore with?" Tarleton asked, jumbling his words.

"You don't need _me_ for that," Tavington assured. "Look how well you've done by yourself tonight!"

Ban motioned for his friend to come closer to where he was, shushing him, preparing to tell him what he considered a secret. Tavington obliged with a grin, nearing his friend.

"But it was so much more fun with you," said the colonel. "Have a jolly good time tonight—your wedding night! But, you're still not going to have as much fun as I am because I have _two_ women for the night!"

"Then go have your fun, Ban, and leave me to my new wife!"

With that, William watched as his close friend walked toward the tents leaning on the shoulders of the two camp followers. After a moment, he headed into the house searching for Melanie.

Inside the house, the new master of the plantation had been stopped by the servants asking for their last sets of instructions. As he was detained, Melanie stood on the porch, looking out over the plantation and into the purple sunset. Her mind was spinning itself in circles as she realized that all the guests were gone and that she and William were now _alone_.

The new Mrs. Tavington became awash in doubt. _Oh what have I done? I married a man I don't love. What am I going to do? He's a murderer! He's the butcher Tavington! I saw what he did to people! Will he take a mistress? What will he do to my father's business? I was too hasty! What have I done? Oh woe!_

The young woman stopped her crazy thoughts long enough to try to think straight_. It's not too late. If we don't consummate the marriage, then we can have it annulled. That's it! He will understand. He will realize that we've made a mistake._

Lost in the middle of her thoughts, she was startled when she felt a pair of arms slip around her waist. She gasped, jumping as she did.

"I'm sorry, Melanie," apologized Will in a low voice. "I didn't mean to scare you."

Standing behind her, her back to him, he tightened his arms about her and rested his chin on her shoulder. The officer whispered lovingly into her ear. "We're finally alone."

"So we are," his new wife replied, trying not to tremble.

"Why don't we retire to our bedroom," he coaxed in a lust drenched voice.

Melanie panicked. She had to stall completing the marriage. "Oh…..William…..I didn't get any sleep last night…..and it's been a long day with many guests….I'm exhausted."

"You must be nervous as well," remarked the general, "You're shaking."

"Oh…..yes…very much so," his wife stammered.

"That's natural," he tried to soothe her nerves. "We've only been married a few hours."

"Will…my head is pounding….and..I—"

"We're both nervous," he interrupted, "it's our first time together as man and wife."

William began to kiss Melanie's neck and nuzzle her ear. "I can't wait to see you naked."

"We've been together before," she said shakily.

"Yes, but in a hurried fashion….with our clothes on….not married," he murmured as he kissed her neck softly.

The new Mrs. Tavington turned to face her husband, breaking out of his arms. "I have this headache. Could we please wait?"

"Darling, you know the marriage must be consummated tonight," he reminded her gently. "Now that everyone is gone we can relax in our bedchamber. I'm sure you'll feel better upstairs. And once we're up there, I'm sure we'll find renewed strength to enjoy the bliss of our marital bed." With that, he pulled her to him and kissed the top of her head, smelling the flower scent in her hair. Then he began to pull a few hair pins out, his fingers feeling the curls fall onto her shoulders.

Just then, there was a ruckus in the horse barn. The horses all whinnied loudly as the stable hands shouted and rummaged about the building. Tavington turned just in time to see his own horse escaping the barn.

"I'll be back," he said as he let go of his wife, snorting in irritation at the interruption.

Melanie watched as William stepped quickly off the porch and caught his horse's bridle. It was only as she looked on as her new husband caught his steed and led the beast across the lawn back to the barn that she noticed how relaxed he looked. His cravat and jacket were gone. Though he wore his vest still, his white shirt was unbuttoned and open at his neck.

When she could see William no longer, she reached down the front of her dress and carefully brought out the bloodstained handkerchief folded around Alexander's lock of hair, hair ribbon, and her ruby ring. The girl eyed all the objects then kneaded them all in her hands, thinking of Alex as she did. She felt sad; missing him even more. A quiet tear ran down her cheek as she remembered being held in his arms.

"A snake got into the barn and scared the animals," Tavington said as he ascended the steps up to the veranda. "Ezra got it."

Melanie was lost in her thoughts once again. She hadn't noticed that Will had rejoined her on the steps and she had not heard him, either. He approached his wife on the other side of the porch as he could see that she was preoccupied. Towering over her, he looked down over her shoulder and noticed her holding her dead lover's items.

The general was instantly perturbed and jealous as his young wife's actions. "Thinking of Alex, are you?" His voice conveyed irritation.

The girl jumped, startled at the officer disturbing her thoughts and regrets. "I can't stop thinking about him just because I married you," she retorted.

"You've had many weeks to mourn him," William pointed out.

"It doesn't go away in that amount of time," she countered, raising her voice. The young woman clenched the items now in her fist. Melanie turned away from him and let out an exasperated sigh.

"I can't…just…stop….thinking about him," she stuttered, not turning back to face him, in an attempt to hide her tears.

"I understand, but this is _our_ wedding night," Tavington said, teeth nearly gritted. "And _you_ are married to _me_, Mrs. Tavington!"

"You said I could continue to mourn him!"

"Yes, but not tonight!," William informed angrily. "And never in our bedroom. Mourn him anyplace else but there!"

"William!"

"No, Melanie!," he shouted. "I won't stand for it! You will not bring your memories of him into _our_ bed. Do you understand? I will not compete with a dead man for your affections in the bedroom—OUR BEDROOM!"

"This was a mistake," Melanie said under her breath.

General Tavington grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the door. He put her back squarely against the wall, pinioning her there. With his face glowing with anger and his eyes burning blue, he put his face very close to hers, threatening his new wife.

"You are _my_ wife now," he said menacingly into her frightened face. "I will not share you with a ghost!"

"Will…please," she begged hoarsely, scared of his sudden show of anger.

"I will not share _our_ bed with your longings for your deceased lover," he commanded, "now or ever! I will not have you thinking of him whilst _we_ make love. Do I make myself clear?"

Mrs. Tavington was too afraid and taken aback to even answer him. She cowered against the wall, only thinking how much of a mistake her marrying him was. The commanding officer side of him was coming back out now, as she felt he was treating her as one of his soldiers.

_"Melanie?!" _

"Yes, I understand," she answered fighting back tears. "I won't think of him in there."

He let go of her but she stayed against the wall as he continued to tower menacingly over her. "Now, this marriage _IS_ going to be consummated tonight! I expect you to come with me this instant!"

"And what if I don't," Melanie defied, finding a sudden burst of courage. She stood firm, staring him down, hands on both her hips.

"Then I shall have no choice but to force myself on you," he warned.

"You wouldn't dare," she challenged.

"It is my right! I am your husband and _you will_ perform your wifely duties without question."

The young woman said nothing, instead looking down and away from her husband. She could only keep thinking that the only way to have the marriage annulled was not to have it consummated.

"Now, Mrs. Tavington," he began, sounding threatening, "you can either take my hand and go with me willingly to the bliss and privacy of our bedroom,…. or I can drag you into the parlor and take you on the floor….by force."

"Uh….General…..," Mr. Andrews voice said as he peeked out of the door on the porch. William straightened up tall, clasping his hands behind his back, looking stately.

"Yes."

"I need a word with you for just a moment, sir," the farm overseer announced, "and then we'll leave you two alone."

"Certainly. I'll be right there."

He leaned over and spoke into his wife's ear. "Now, you _will_ have a decision made by the time I return. I hope you won't make me force you to submit."

The officer disappeared, leaving Melanie desperate, unsure and afraid, still standing against the wall of the house. She got her thoughts under control and tried to think logically.

It was clear that she was not going to find a way out of consummating the marriage. She would be married to William for life, whether she thought it a mistake or not.

The only matter now was how she wanted the wedding night to proceed. Would she suffer some nerves in exchange for her husband, a handsome man, she conceded, making love to her behind the privacy of closed doors? Or would she defy him, trying to fight the consummation, risking his wrath, which she'd seen him impose on wayward colonials?

The nervous young wife made up her mind quickly. She had been assaulted by Major Bordon and Colonel Burwell. She did not wish to be raped by a third man—especially her new husband. Melanie decided to make the best of the situation and go with William to the privacy of their bedchamber.

General Tavington returned quickly and stared down at his wife. She felt nervous again, looking sheepishly away from him. His hand cupped her chin and gently brought her face back forward so that he could look into her eyes.

"What have you decided, Mrs. Tavington? Hmmm?"

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm her nerves. "I wish to go with you," she replied timidly, almost in a whisper.

The officer released her chin and smiled at his wife. "Wise decision," he said as he bent down and kissed her cheek. "I'm delighted."

He took her hand and eased her away from the wall, then folded her into his arms. She looked up at him, feeling helpless, yet inexplicably wanting the man, even after he'd just scared her.

William leaned down and covered her mouth with his. He kissed her slowly and smiled to himself when he felt her arms slip around his neck. His mouth left hers to murmur in her ear. "I've given the servants some time off; they won't be back until the morning after tomorrow. They will leave meals for us in baskets on the porch for us to take at our leisure. So we are absolutely alone in our house for the next thirty six hours."

The couple kissed again for a moment as the sun sank below the horizon. When they parted, William took Melanie's hand. The couple stayed quiet as he led her up the stairs and to their bedroom, the two acting almost reverently.


	55. Chapter 55 The Wedding Night

**Saturday, March 6, 2010. **

**Hi dear friends and loyal readers--I am so sorry it has taken me long to update this. Husband and little girl were sick for the last two weeks, then I got sick, problems at work, etc, held this up. Everyone is well now here at home, had some free time tonight (a rarity) and felt like writing! I want to thank you all again for your comments, reviews, emails, support which I continue to be humbled by. This story had indeed become very long and I am grateful that you have stuck with it. I hope you will continue to stick with it because there are a few more chapters.**

**With love and regards,**

**JScorpio**

Chapter 55 The Wedding Night

The bedroom door clicked shut behind General Tavington and his wife, which the officer then locked for good measure—he wanted no interruptions this night. Mrs. Tavington moved to her bureau, where she tucked Bordon's mementos, still clasped tightly in her hand, into the jewelry box. Her husband worked his way around the room lighting a minimal amount of candles.

Still at the dressing table, Melanie sat down and took the rest of the hair pins from her hair, letting the rest of her curly blonde tresses fall down her back. She ran her fingers through it while stealing glimpses out of her mirror at her husband.

Will walked to his dressing table and poured two glasses of wine. He sat them down on the nightstand, then seated himself on the bed. Tavington slipped his boots and stockings off. When he was done, he looked at his wife still seated at her dresser. He watched her for an instant, delighted to see her skirt above her knees as she inched her stockings down and off her legs.

Melanie looked up and caught William staring at her. As she caught his eye, he raised his eyebrows and smiled at the girl. Embarrassed, she looked back down quickly at the task in hand. With that, Will stood up and quickly unbuttoned his vest, then slipped out of it. He laid the garment on his dresser and turned to find Mrs. Tavington standing by the bed, still in her beautiful wedding frock.

William joined her at the bedside. He picked up both glasses of wine and handed one to her. "Well…..here's to a long, happy marriage for us and success to the business," he toasted.

After the customary clink of glass, the two took sips of their wine as they smiled at each other.

The general took Melanie's wine glass from her hand and set it and his own down on the nightstand again. With that he took her hand and pulled her over to the large window which looked out over the green lawn. The last rays of pink from the sunset streaked the sky as the violet dark of the night sky fell on the horizon. After the two gazed out at the small empire that was theirs, the general then pulled his wife to him.

Giving his wife a soft, affectionate kiss, his lips slid to her ear. "You looked so beautiful today, Melanie," he proclaimed softly. "I wanted to skip the reception and ravish you right away!"

She gave a gentle laugh as she slid her arms around his neck. "The women said they didn't think you'd be able to keep your hands off me," she revealed.

"Did they now?," he asked. The officer pulled back from her and went on. "All I heard from the men today was how I was marrying the fairest, prettiest girl in the countryside."

Melanie blushed as William stepped back from her, releasing her from his embrace. He slowly pulled his fine white shirt out of his pants then took it off and over his head, throwing it onto a nearby chair. His wife caught her breath as he did, her eyes sweeping over his muscle chiseled chest and shoulders.

The general then took a step closer to his wife looking down at her. She watched as he brought his hands up to her bodice and began to work the buttons of her dress loose. They were so fine and tiny and covered with slick material that his fingers barely lasted until the third button. She brought her hands up to meet his, clasping his frustrated fingers.

"May I help?" she asked demurely, looking up at him with innocence in his eyes.

"Yes," he answered, bending his tall frame down to kiss her ear and neck. "I want you to do it, and don't stop until the damned thing is on the floor."

"Certainly," Melanie chuckled, smiling up at her husband.

With that, he took her hand and led her over to a chair where he sat down and pulled her down onto his lap. Will clasped both her hands in his then kissed her deeply for a moment, stopping her hands from their assigned task. When their lips parted, he put her fingers back on the buttons of her dress, which she immediately set to unbuttoning slowly.

His mouth outlined her jaw and neck with kisses as she did, making a sigh of pleasure escape her lips as her eyes closed. His lips found their way to her ear again, which he nuzzled.

"Besides," he murmured, "my hands can best be employed elsewhere."

Melanie smiled at his words as she continued unfastening her bodice. Her head dropped backwards as she felt her skirt being gathered above her knees.

William continued nuzzling his wife's neck and ears, sometimes stealing a kiss from her lips. "Now……where were we……a couple of weeks ago……when we were so rudely interrupted," he teased in a whisper.

Sliding his hand up under his wife's skirt, it only rested at the top of her thigh for an instant before he pressed two fingers up into her. He was pleased to find her already wet and sufficiently aroused for him.

Melanie's fingers stopped their task momentarily as she felt his fingers invade her. "Oh, Will," she gasped airily, feeling relieved to feel his fingers inside her again. Her husband's unoccupied hand found her now idle fingers and urged them back to unbuttoning her dress.

She found it hard to concentrate on unfastening her bodice with William's fingers causing so much joy inside her. "William," she murmured as her mouth covered his in a deep kiss. Then she began to kiss his neck, her hands leaving their task to undo the officer's queue. Her fingers quickly upwrapped the black ribbon then equally as fast undid his braid. She ran her fingers through his hair, letting the dark waves fall onto his shoulders.

William caught one of her hands and moved it back to her bodice and whispered, "Hurry up! I want that dress off of you!" To coax her along, he pushed a third finger inside of her, making her moan in pleasure again.

Soon her bodice was unbuttoned and she pushed it off her shoulders. William withdrew his fingers from her and they both stood up, her dress falling to the floor making a rustling sound. Tavington took her hand as she stepped out of the pooled satin. She then turned her back to him and he quickly began to unlace her stay just loose enough for her to slip out of.

Melanie turned to face her husband now wearing only her gauzy shift. "Take it off," he requested, "I want to see you naked."

His wife took a couple of steps back from him, undoing the drawstring on her chemise. With a tug it came loose allowing Melanie to push it off her shoulders. It gathered in a wisp at her feet, where she stepped out of it and padded quietly over to the bed. William watched her, sucking in a huge breath as she crawled onto the bed and laid down on her side, her hands instinctively covering her breasts and pubic area.

General Tavington stared at his wife's nude form on the bed, never having seen her totally naked. As his eyes swept approvingly over her body, he hooked his fingers into his waistband and slid his breeches off.

Melanie caught her breath as her husband now stood naked at the bedside with a glorious, rock hard erection standing out proudly from his lean body. She felt a twinge of electricity between her own legs becoming further aroused at her own husband's body. The girl now couldn't wait to feel his body on top of hers. She instinctively let her hands drop from where they covered her modesty.

Will soon joined her on the bed, lying down next to her. He pulled her into his arms and began to move his hands up and down her body. The two began to kiss deeply, tasting the lingering flavor of wine in each other's mouths. Melanie moved her hand between them and began to toy with William's hardened member.

Her husband moaned lustily as she moved her fingers and hand all over his stiff manhood. Soon she closed her fist about it and began moving it up and down the length of it. Melanie kissed his neck and shoulders as she did, smiling to herself as William groaned quietly at her actions. In just a couple of moments the officer felt close, and not wishing to spend himself so soon, gently pushed his wife's hand away.

With that, he moved over atop Melanie's body, kneeing her legs apart to put himself in between them. His hands cupped and kneaded both her breasts as he kissed her neck. One of his hands snaked its way down her body, finding her crotch. His fingers moved softly, sweeping between her legs, outlining the folds of her womanhood. Soon his index finger coaxed her hardened little pearl out, manipulating it with the tip of his digit. Melanie moaned aloud in pleasure as he did.

Soon his head dropped to her breasts and began to suckle at each nipple in turn, making them into hard little peaks. When he began to suck a little harder and increase the pressure between her legs with his finger, she arched her back and writhed beneath him.

After another moment, Will eased his fingers back inside his wife's moistness. "Oh…God…William…._PLEASE," _she cooed.

"Please what?," he teased as his mouth kissed its way back up to meet her lips.

"Will…._please_….I want you inside of me _now_," she begged breathlessly, wanting him.

"In time, darling," he cajoled in a murmur. "I will put it in you, just be patient."

His three fingers worked themselves in and out of her, making her want him all the more. Melanie felt as if she was going insane with longing. She hadn't lain fully naked in leisure with a man in months and now her body was controlling her.

William kissed at her neck and nuzzled her ears as his other hand cupped her breast. He whispered in her ear again. "I am going to have you all night long. You will be so sore in the morning that you will be begging me to stop."

"Oh, God," Melanie gasped at his words, her eyes widening, knowing he would make true on his promise.

Tavington withdrew his fingers from his wife, making her groan again, wanting some part of him inside of her. She watched him as he climbed atop her body and nudged her legs a little wider apart with his knees. The officer took her hands in his and pushed them down onto the pillow on either side of her head. As he held her down by her wrists, he gave her a long, deep kiss.

He pulled back from the kiss and instantly sank his hardness into his wife. Melanie responded with a gasp, then a moan of pleasure. William thrust slowly in and out of her with long, languid strokes, taking his time and driving the young woman mad with desire.

After a moment of this delicious torture, the general stopped moving, lying perfectly still atop his wife, leaving his rigid manhood resting within her. He kissed her neck sensuously as she closed her eyes and sighed.

"William,…..please….," she begged.

"What," Tavington teased in a murmur.

"Move…..I need you to move," his wife pleaded.

"In a moment, Melanie," he answered. Will kissed her mouth softly, then teased her earlobe, nibbling on it. "I must rest for a moment; we're going to be doing this all night."

His wife began to kiss his neck, inciting him to start his movements again. William slid himself in and out of her, quickening his pace. In a few moments, he had brought both of them close to the edge. He suddenly stopped and withdrew himself from her, rolled over on to his back and pulled her atop him.

Melanie pulled herself up astride him and all too willingly impaled herself upon his manhood. She cooed and gasped in relief as she sank down upon it, not noticing her new husband smiling up at her wanton actions. The girl began moving herself up and down up him with abandon, so filled with her husband and her own arousal. Will's hand caressed her thighs for a moment as she moved on him, then came to rest on her hips. His hands languished in his wife's movements, loving the feelings over her legs moving, pushing her up and down.

After another moment of this, Mrs. Tavington began propelling herself up and down upon him faster, impatiently and hurried, her moaning more insistent. He could sense that she was nearing completion. William fingers instantly seized a bruising grip upon his wife's hips and swiftly stopped her. And although still beneath her body, he was able to pull his erection out of her.

Melanie looked down at her husband, a look of disappointment clouding her face. "Why, William?" she gasped questioningly. "Why did you stop me. I was so close."

"Shhhhh," he soothed as he took ahold of her hands. "You'll get you pleasure soon enough." With that, he pulled her forward a little bit, urging him to crawl up his still supine body.

Tavington looked up at his hungry wife with a lascivious smile. "Come here," he coaxed. "Put your knees on the pillow." He pointed casually to the spots on the pillow on both sides of his head.

Melanie's disappointment and being stopped just before achieving her pleasure soon vanished when she realized what Will wanted to do. Her mouth dropped open a bit, shocked at the positioning of what he wanted to do, then she smiled shyly, blushed, and looked at the bed.

"Come here, darling," the general cajoled, "you won't regret it. In fact, I think you will rather enjoy it."

Mrs. Tavington crawled slowly up the bed and Will's body to near his head. Carefully she placed both of her knees on either side of his head on the pillow. Melanie felt slightly scandalous at straddling her husband's head, her most intimate female parts within inches of his handsome face. The girl, facing the headboard, reached forward and gripped it with her hands, helping to balance her above her William's head.

In a moment, Melanie felt his tongue begin to flick between her legs, painting her womanly anatomy with it. She cooed and closed her eyes as the sensations felt wonderful. After another moment, his warm tongue burrowed into her folds and found the prize it sought. The touch of it against her hardened bud sent a bolt of electricity through her body. She rewarded his action with a joyous moan as her head dropped backwards.

The new Mrs. Tavington, only hours before, had seen her husband using his mouth to charm the citizens of the countryside, guests at their wedding, to what a wonderful match they were. His silver tongue didn't mince words when coaxing business alliances. And now she was finding out just how adept his tongue was at more intimate devices, and she was enjoying it.

Her thighs tightened and she regripped the headboard, her knuckles whitening as she hung on amidst her gasping pleasure. "Oh….William!..Oh my God!," she cried lustily, not wanting his tongue to stop its dance.

The officer kept on her another moment, pleased that he was conquering his new wife with pleasure. He moved his tongue all about between her legs, varying the motions, making the girl squeal with delight. Then he settled back to the serious business of making her scream. His tongue once again found her womanly pearl, swollen and hard, aching for him to touch it again. By her groans and actions, he could tell he'd found a pleasing rhythm, so he stuck to it for yet another moment, over and over again, bringing her closer to the edge.

After another moment of this exquisite torture, it only took a few expert strokes of his tongue to cause his wife to call his name in pleasure. "Oh,…William, WILLIAM!!!", she cried as one of the most powerful orgasms she'd ever felt ripped through her body, making her hang on to the headboard for dear life.

As she collapsed forward against the headboard and wall, panting, she felt Will crawling out from beneath her. When she recovered sufficiently enough to turn back and look for him, he was on the bed, looking lustily at her. Before she could say a word, he grabbed her, pulled her from the pillow, and pinned her back down on her back on the bed.

"Will?", she gasped, still trying to catch her breath from her last few moments of pleasure. He said nothing but kneed her legs roughly apart and drilled himself back into her, making her groan with surprise, exhaustion, and pleasure. Melanie's arms snaked about his body, her hands moving down his back, coming to rest on his butt. She loved feeling his tight buttocks, one hand on each cheek of them, as he moved himself in and out of her.

Melanie looked up at William, who was holding himself above her, his arms straight and locked, thrusting himself hard into her. His eyes were closed in ecstasy, obviously enjoying his manhood imbedded deeply within his wife. But she wanted to feel his strong torso against her body, so her arms found their way back up his body. She threaded her fingers into his long, dark hair and pulled his head down to hers, where the two then enjoyed long, passionate kisses as his movements continued.

Will groaned when he felt Melanie draw her knees up to either side of him, pressing them against his body, holding him there. She rocked her body from beneath, as well, trying to meet his thrusts, urging him on.

"William……harder," she gasped the request, "oh….harder."

Her husband complied, interrupting his movements for only a few seconds to readjust himself over her body. She smiled in lusty pleasure as she saw him raise up above her and grab the headboard. Will heaved himself in deeply with a very hard thrust, taking the girl's breath away. In an instant he was pounding his hardness deeply into her as hard as he could, banging against her cervix. Both of them groaned huskily, lost to the feeling of it. The headboard began to knock against the wall with their severe motions of passion, but neither seemed to notice or care.

Melanie soon brought her legs up to William's waist, crossing her ankles behind his back, holding him securely in position. He continued plumbing away inside of her, both moaning their deepest pleasure aloud. She soon felt a heat building in her pelvis, then the familiar spark of electricity coursing through her body. His wife gave way to her pleasure and cried aloud with it.

"Oh…..Oh….William….William!," she moaned and cried.

Will followed almost immediately with his orgasm, the explosion within threatening to tear his body apart. "Oh….Melanie…..oh…..ah….mmmm," he cried out as he filled her with his semen. The two recovered a moment, both panting for breath, still entangled together, his body upon hers.

It was done—the marriage was official now. The consummation, pleasurable to both parties, was done and there was no turning back.

Once rested, William rolled off of Melanie and laid beside her on the bed, both looking up at the dark ceiling, no idea what time it was. General Tavington sat up and reached over to the nightstand. He poured two glasses of wine. Melanie sat up and he did.

"Mrs. Tavington," he said as he passed the glass to her.

"General Tavington," she replied back as she took the goblet from him.

The two quickly downed the liquid then laid back down on the bed. The officer pulled his wife too him, wanting to rest and hold the girl as he did. "William…," she sighed as she settled against his body.

"Melanie," whispered the officer as he kissed her head, nuzzling his face in her wavy blonde hair.

Both were quiet and equally amazed at how silent it was outside on the plantation. In the evening, one could still often hear the muffled sounds of the hospital tents and people moving about the camp on the property. But there was strangely no sound tonight, as if out of respect, the hospital camp's occupants stayed silent just to make the newlywed's feel as if they were truly all alone.

After sometime of rest, Melanie began to kiss Will's neck and shoulders, inciting passion in the man again. He rolled over atop her body and returned the kisses, and soon she found him sucking lustily at her nipples again. Her head dropped back onto the pillow in pleasure as he did. Her hands snaked into his hair, her eyes closed all the while as his mouth and lips worked her rosy nipples into taut little peaks.

After a moment of this pleasure, she felt William raise up off her body. Opening her eyes, she looked up questioningly at him. He took her wrist and pulled her up to sitting, then turned her over onto all fours. She felt his finger move into her, gauging her readiness, and giving her a little bit of pleasure as he did. He withdrew it, satisfied with her moistness, and positioned himself behind her. She felt the tip of his rigid erection at her entrance once again as he readying himself. Melanie had to grip the sheets with her fists to steady herself as he rammed his hardness into her.

And so it went on like this the rest of their wedding night, William making good on his promise. He had his new wife all over the bed in varying positions, both enjoying the different aspects of lovemaking. And indeed, well after the sun was up in the morning, Melanie, her body and especially her hips and womanhood, were sore and spent, and _she did have to beg_ him to stop. She knew that Will was strong, but found out the extent of his husbandly stamina that night.


	56. Chapter 56 Misgivings And Regrets

**Author's note: A huge thanks to my longtime friend and fellow author SlytherinDragoon for some help and suggestions with this chapter. She's busy with her own life and her own stories here but always has time to help a friend and fellow author out with ideas.....or just to give great support! Thanks TS!**

Chapter 56 Misgivings And Regrets

Melanie opened her eyes slowly then blinked them against the light coming in through the window. The young woman judged by the positions of light and shadow in the room and the amount of noise coming in from the hospital camp that it was near noon. She thought she had been asleep now for four hours or so, judging it to have been well after sun up when she and her new husband finally ceased their lovemaking. The two had then fallen asleep in each other's arms.

Mrs. Tavington rolled to her other side to see that her husband was gone. She pushed her sore body up to a sitting position with a wince. "William?", she called, looking about for him. Feeling the urge to urinate, she climbed slowly out of the bed. Each step and movement she made as she crossed the room hurt her sore hips.

As she walked gingerly across the floor, she felt raw between her legs, as well. William's stamina had twisted and turned her body every which direction last evening. The girl blushed when she realized that there was maybe only a few moments during the night in which she did not have her legs splayed open wide. She giggled at that memory as she stepped behind the privacy screen.

After relieving herself into the chamber pot, she made her way back to the bed. It was only then that she realized she was still completely naked. Melanie grabbed her chemise off the floor and slipped it over her head as she climbed back into bed.

The girl reclined back into the pillows and closed her eyes. She stretched her arms out in the bed. As she slid her hands across the sheets, she found a dried spot of William's seed upon the sheet. Soon her other hand found another stain of their lovemaking, as well. The girl thought that if she were fertile still, the great amount of her husband's seed that had been spilled last night would have surely impregnated her.

Her mind drifted back a moment to when she had been pregnant just months before with Alexander's child. The two spent nights together regularly in each other's bedchambers in Fort Carolina. They had been together so much she couldn't even begin to pinpoint just when she had conceived the baby.

And now, she was married to another virile officer, one who would surely have her as much as Bordon did. Thinking of the two men made her mind move to comparing them.

First, she laughed to herself at the naughtiness of thinking about the size of their manhoods. The girl blushed thinking of how they were both very well endowed. The she thought of their stamina in bed. Bordon had wanted her frequently, and she could tell by last night that Tavington would probably require her wifely duties just as often.

She also remembered how good Alex was at pleasing her. His fingers and his tongue: how good it felt as they moved over her body. Melanie had to admit that William's felt just as nice on her. And then both men's mouths: their kisses. While the touch of their lips felt different, the slow, passionate kisses or deep, aggressive ones still incited such feelings in her.

Then she recalled the feel of their bodies. Alex's torso, while as muscular as William's, was thicker, while Tavington's was lean and finely chiseled with muscle. Both the men's bodies bore scars from their years in the cavalry. Melanie recalled the old scars, numerous, on both the men.

She remembered seeing Will's newest scars last night: on his left bicep, left side, right abdomen and right side of his neck. When he had come to the plantation over three months ago, they were open, gaping and bloody. Those same scars last night were newly healed upon his body; new, pink skin, delicate looking, replacing the once horrid looking wounds.

Then she recalled how both men were as officers. They were both brave, yet strict with their men. Both could be brutal with rebels and prisoners. She had been present when both men had killed innocent colonials. And she'd heard the rumors about both men ravishing female prisoners, taking advantage of them for intimidation. She experienced this with Bordon in the beginning, remembering that he had scared her. Melanie frowned as she remembered Tavington's threats last evening about forcing her to submit to him if she was not willing to consummate the marriage. The girl hoped he would never ravish her, but she knew now that he was certainly capable of it.

The young woman recollected what Bridget had once told her about both of their temperaments. Her Irish friend had proclaimed that they were the two most ill tempered officers in the fort. Melanie had witnessed, as well as had the brunt of both of their famous tempers. She hoped that marriage and happiness might help curb his irascibility.

Finally her mind drifted back to the day in the vineyard with William. She had asked him if he would take a mistress and was distressed that his answer wasn't a resounding "no". Melanie remembered feeling confused ever since he'd told her that if she attended to her wifely duties, then he wouldn't have to take one. She thought back to her time with Alex: he was married and had fallen in love with her. She had become Bordon's mistress. And if Alexander took a mistress, what was to stop William from doing the same?

Melanie looked over at the side of the bed where Will had slept beside her just a few hours ago. She reached out and touched it, her hand gliding over the cold sheets. All this thinking of mistresses now made her paranoid, and she wondered just where the general was.

The girl decided to get up. She rolled her still sore body out of bed and searched for her robe. Putting it on, she then set off in search of her new husband.

Once outside the room, she called for the man as she strode down the hallway. The girl stopped and looked over the banister into the rooms below. "Will?" , she called then stayed still for a moment listening for him to answer her back.

Melanie continued down the stairway and paused again on the landing. She looked about and saw nothing but a still house. In another moment, she stepped down onto the first floor and made her way to first the small parlor, then the office.

"William?"

His wife stood still, marveling at how quiet the house was without servants and military hospital personnel buzzing through it. She sighed, then looked toward the door. Standing in the middle of the floor, the girl wasn't sure what to think. Her mind turned in circles.

_Maybe he rode into the village? Maybe he's out inspecting the plantation? Maybe he's outside relaxing? Maybe he's down at the hospital camp? Oh no. Maybe he's at the follower's tents. _

She became apprehensive at where Will could be. The young woman felt her breathing become labored and her heart beating fast.

_Melanie, Melanie! This is silly. Get ahold of yourself! He's not going to be with a whore the morning after his wedding night! Don't be ridiculous, she berated herself._

Mrs. Tavington took a deep breath, calming herself. She looked out the large window out into the yard, surveying the activity. After a moment of summoning some courage, the girl stepped out onto the porch. Melanie looked over to the side out the outbuildings, scanning the area for her husband. When she didn't see him, she looked out over the sea of hospital tents, but did not spot him there either.

Melanie stepped off the veranda and saw Diedre, one of the house servants, quickly trotting her way. The maid, carrying two empty water pails, looked up and saw her mistress.

She stopped in front her and curtsied.

"Good morning, Mrs. Tavington," she bade, "And congratulations."

"Thank you, Diedre. Have you seen General Tavington?"

"Yes, Ma'am. Down at the creek," she said with a nod of her head that direction.

"Thank you," Melanie said with a smile, breathing a sigh of relief.

"Will you or the master be needing anything soon?," asked Diedre.

"No, we're fine," she replied. "I understand that the general has given all of you the day off until tomorrow morning. We will be fine until then."

The maid headed off toward the well as Melanie strolled across the grass. She pulled her robe securely around her as she crossed the lane. Making her way between the outbuildings, she cleared them and made her way to the grass slope leading down to the brook.

Melanie spotted her husband, crouching by the stream, looking at something. She saw him stand back up as she walked down the grade. As she moved closer to him, the officer knelt back down, hammering a stake into the ground. Will stood back up, still not noticing his wife.

Mrs. Tavington studied her husband for a moment. He was out of uniform—a rare sight indeed. His white linen shirt was open at the collar hanging limply, exposing his neck and the very top of his chest. The sleeves were rolled up, showing his muscular forearms. The general wore brown breeches with a pair of black boots, looking cool and casual in the May late morning sun.

The young woman did think her husband very handsome. She knew that other women would be jealous and envious of her when she was on his arm. The girl sighed as she smiled to herself.

"Good morning, William," she called sweetly.

"Good day, dear wife," he replied, looking up from his task.

"What are you doing?" asked the young woman.

"Measuring. Staking off this plot of land."

"For what?"

"A mill," answered the general.

_We haven't even been married one whole day yet and he's already spending Father's money, not to mention changing what daddy worked so hard to build, thought Melanie._ She had wanted to keep things the way they were to honor her father and his years of effort making the plantation successful. The girl wasn't keen on changing things.

After a moment of silence, Melanie spoke up. "Do we need a mill, William? We've never had one before."

She tried to keep her voice even and innocent, not wanting to risk the general's temper. Nor did she want to alienate her new husband just hours after their wedding.

"Yes," answered the officer. "It will be more practical for us to do our own milling, not to mention the profit made from milling for others."

Melanie said nothing as she watched William step off a few feet, pulling the string tight and straight, placing the stake opposite of the other. She watched as he drove the marker into the ground.

"We're going to have to have a survey done," the general said aloud as he stood up. He wiped the sweat from his forehead on the sleeve of his shirt as he turned back to his wife.

"The battle I got hurt in back in January," he began to Melanie, "up in the piedmont near the crossing into North Carolina, we crossed a large stream that had some potential for a mill. It was called Macedonia Creek. Do you know it?"

"No," she answered.

"I'd like to go back up there soon to find a spot. I'd like to make that one into a saw mill. I know my way around the grist, but I'm sure I could learn the wood milling business."

"Will, have you seen the books? Can we afford to build two mills?"

"Yes, and hopefully more in the future," the general answered confidently. "Darling you forget that as of yesterday, my inheritance and my officer's salary are now mingled with your family money. We'll be fine."

Melanie sighed. "I see. Can you run everything—the farm _and_ the mills?"

"Yes," the general replied. "I will oversee it all and make the decisions. We have slaves and indentureds. I'll hire hands to help, as well."

Young Mrs. Tavington was silent. She looked away from William and down at the ground. The girl nervously moved her foot over some blades of grass.

Noticing the heavy silence, the officer stopped what he was doing and looked at his wife. "What's wrong," he asked.

The young woman hesitated an instant, wanting to choose her words. She spoke cautiously. "Are you sure about all this? It seems so much….and so soon. We were only married yesterday."

Tavington shot her a serious, almost intimidating look. "Melanie," he chided, "have you no faith in my abilities as a businessman and the master of this plantation? I turned my father's business around, and I can help here, as well. I have our future to think about."

"Future?," she questioned.

"Yes. What if there are lean years? Drought, flood, crop failure, infestations. We will need something to supplement the farm," he pointed out.

His wife said nothing, instead smiling and shaking her head. She did understand his logic now.

"Darling, you must trust me," he persuaded, "as your husband and manager of the business."

Again the young woman was quiet, shaking her head in acknowledgment. General Tavington took a couple of steps toward her. He reached out and caught her chin with his hand, lifting it to look into her eyes.

"I need to hear you say it," coaxed William sympathetically.

"Yes, Will," she relented. "I trust you."

"Thank you," he smiled down at her.

She felt awkward. Sure that she could find some mending inside to occupy her time until he was done, she excused herself. "Well, I'll leave you to your task." The girl turned and began to walk away.

"Wait a minute," the officer called after her.

"Yes?" she turned back to look at her husband.

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

"What?"

"A kiss for your new husband," he requested.

"Oh," she smiled, then blushed. Melanie walked back to the man and gave him a respectable peck of a kiss on the cheek. He responded with a frown.

"Melanie," he said as he grabbed her and pulled her into his arms, "I want more than that!"

"Will," she said, her hands on his chest trying to push him away, "it's the middle of the day. People are around."

"So," he replied flippantly.

"They'll see us," she pointed out, her voice rising slightly in alarm.

"We're newlyweds. They don't expect us to keep our hands away from each other!"

"You'll have to wait until tonight," Melanie scolded playfully.

"Is that so?" With that, Tavington picked her up quickly and slung her over her shoulder and began to walk toward the water. His wife screamed and pounded on his back with her fists, protesting.

"I demand another kiss," he said as he continued walking.

"No," she squealed. "William!"

"Give me another kiss!"

"No!" she shouted, still hanging upside down from his shoulder.

"Kiss me again or I'll toss you into the stream!"

"You wouldn't dare," she challenged.

In response, the general pulled her forward over his shoulder into his arms in front of him, carrying her as he stepped to the bank of the stream. "Yes I will," he affirmed.

"NO!" Melanie screamed. The girl was panicked, more than aware of what her gauzy nightgown and thin robe would look like wet against her body.

"Kiss me or else!"

He rocked his arms as if he was getting ready to throw her in and she tightened her own arms about his neck. She relented and gave him a tender kiss on the mouth.

Will smiled down at her, looking smug and satisfied as put her down. Just as she started back up the bank, he grabbed her and pulled her back to him, his body square against hers. The man leaned down and took her lips in a long, slow, deep and passionate kiss, lasting more than a few seconds and quite inappropriate for public places.

When they parted, still in bliss, they were greeted with loud clapping, cat calls and hoots of laughter from atop the grade. A group of soldiers had heard Melanie's earlier cries, assembled, and watched the newlywed couple's actions, obviously enjoying the stolen and very inappropriate kiss.

Melanie looked down at the ground, flushed red with embarrassment as she grabbed her husband's hand. General Tavington shot the men a look of irritation.

"Alright, you lot," the two heard Colonel Wilton call, "Back to work!"

As the men dispersed, he called down to the newly married couple. "Sorry, General," he apologized. "And congratulations!"

With her hand still in his, he pulled her close enough to him to whisper in her ear. "You should rest up this afternoon," he murmured affectionately, "I intend to keep you up all night long again." He slapped his wife's bottom as she walked away, smiling in triumph.

* * *

That evening at sunset, General and Mrs. Tavington were finishing up a cold dinner found in the picnic baskets left by the servants. It was quiet in the house as they sat together at one end of the table in the dining room.

"You're awfully quiet," William said, breaking the silence. "Is anything wrong?"

His wife looked down at her plate and sighed. "I can't help but feel troubled."

"About," the officer asked.

"Well, last night," she began, "most other brides—normal, fertile women, would have surely become pregnant from all the seed you spilled."

"Now, Melanie—"

"I just wish I could give you an heir," the young woman mused forlornly.

"Darling, we can adopt as many children as you want," the general comforted, reaching across the table to cover her hand with his.

"I just wish I could have your child," Melanie stated dejectedly, "To carry _your_ child inside me."

"I understand," Will acknowledged, "I have no less affection for you because you cannot."

She nodded her head and gave him a small, forced smile. And awkward quiet passed between the newlyweds. Both took sips of their wine.

William broke the silence. He was curious about something, but knew that he had to be delicate with the matter.

"Melanie," he began, forcing himself to measure his words and keep them in a gentle tone. "Did you ever feel Bordon's child moving within you?"

The girl raised her eyes to look at her husband, then she sighed. "No. Even at four months along, when the miscarriage was, it was too early to feel anything."

"I see," Tavington answered tentatively and in a quiet voice, feeling badly now that he'd asked her.

"I wanted to," the young woman added, "I wanted to feel the baby moving inside of me. I couldn't wait to feel that."

Will shook his head and took another pull on his wine. "I'm sorry, dear. I shouldn't have asked."

"It's alright," Melanie said, downcast.

Another uncomfortable silence hung between the newlyweds. After a moment, Mrs. Tavington broke the silence with a revelation.

"I was going to live with Alex," she revealed, "That ring he gave me was meant to be worn as a wedding ring. He decided that he wasn't going home to England."

"I didn't know that," Tavington informed, "Bordon didn't impart such things to me."

"I thought living with him…looking and acting like a wife to him would make us whole….complete," she mused.

Melanie paused, remembering her feelings, then went on. "Alexander was never really mine," she lamented, shaking her head as she looked down at the table. "I would always just be his mistress, no matter if we lived like a married couple and had true love."

William felt bad for his wife—he could tell she was recalling pain. "I should have broken decorum," he imparted aloud with regret. "If I would have, it would have saved you from becoming a married officer's mistress."

"That's the _only_ difference it would have made," commented Melanie, "People would have just called me 'Tavington's whore' instead."

The officer didn't answer. He knew she was right.

"Will, I really do want to get over Alex," she proclaimed, "I don't want his specter hovering over us. I want you and I to grow to love each other."

William smiled at her. He felt she was sincere in what she said and how she felt.

Melanie became quiet again, and Will sensed there was more bothering her. "Is something else troubling you, dear?"

"Are you going to take a mistress," she asked.

General Tavington let out an audible and exasperated sigh. "Melanie, we went over this days ago. There's no reason for me to—"

"William, I would have felt better if you would have given me a resounding 'no' that day in the vineyard when I first asked you."

"I haven't even had a chance to become bored with you—"

"But what if you do?" interrupted Melanie.

With that, the officer got up from his chair and made his way to his wife's chair. He picked Melanie up from it, took a few steps to the other end of the long dining room table and sat her down on the edge of it. He roughly pushed her down onto her back on it.

The girl was too stunned even to protest. In an instant, William pulled her down to where her bottom was at the edge of the table and threw her skirts up above her thighs, kneeling down between her legs. Before she knew it, she was catching her own breath when she felt him bury his face in her womanhood. His tongue made immediate work of finding her womanly pearl, then manipulating it with deft strokes.

"Oh…my God…William!", she moaned as his tongue burrowed steadily into her womanly folds. His wife gasped aloud when he pushed a finger into her moistness. He was pleased to find her ready to accept him.

A delicious warmth began to build in her pelvis and the girl soon found herself arching her back against the hard wood of the table.

"Oh Will! WILL!!" she groaned.

Sensing that she was close to the edge, Tavington stopped and stood back up, pushing his breeches down quickly as he did, freeing his stiffened member from the confines of the material. He took ahold of the shaft and teased her aching and swollen womanhood with the head of his cock, making her coo.

"William….PLEASE!," she begged breathlessly.

He pulled her back down the table just a little and put her legs up onto his shoulders so that he could go deeply into her. With no more hesitation, he rammed himself into her as hard as he could. Will pounded away inside of her, feeling the head of his stiffness hitting the back of her.

Melanie reached down to near her bottom and grabbed onto the edge of the table tightly, feeling that his hard thrusts would send her off the other side. His hands were on either side of her body, jamming his hardness in as fast and rough as he could.

"William oh WILLIAM!!" she cried as her muscles clinched around his manhood.

In just a few more strokes, they came at the same time with Tavington collapsing on top of her. He took her legs off his shoulders and gently let them drop to dangle off the table. As they panted together, trying to catch their breaths, her husband pushed himself up off of her, but she hooked her hand around his neck and pulled his head back down to where their lips met. After a lingering kiss, he looked his wife in the eyes.

"Were those the actions of a man who has grown tired of making love to his wife?"

"No," Melanie relented.

With a smile he asked, "Shall we retire to our bedroom?"

Still breathless, she answered. "Oh Will, I don't think I can walk after that." Her hip joints and thighs were hurting from being stretched over his shoulders.

"That's no matter," replied General Tavington. "Whether you walk or I carry you upstairs, _we will _be naked in our bed in the next five minutes!"

******************

**Author's note: Tarleton's Legion really did cross Macedonia Creek in extreme Northern South Carolina on the way to the Cowpens Battle, hours before. It was dark still, and the creek water was cold from the winter and swollen by winter rains. It is about five miles from the battlefield.**


	57. Chapter 57 The Truth Within The Gossip

Chapter 57 The Truth Within The Gossip

"Oh…Will…ah…..I'm going to come," Melanie murmured into her husband's ear. William responded with a groan, trying to stave off his _own_ climax until his wife came.

General and Mrs. Tavington had been enjoying a midday picnic on a secluded part of their plantation when the couple became amorous. The officer walked his wife a short way into a shady glade and there, immediately took her against a tree. The young woman quickly forgot the roughness of the tree against her back as soon as William impaled her on his hardness. She quickly wrapped her legs around his waist and held on tightly as he made love to her. The deep thrusting and the thickness of his cock filling her entirely full had brought her close to completion.

"William….oh God!....WILLIAM!", the girl moaned as she climaxed.

"Mmmmmm…Ah…Melanie," the general groaned as he let himself go to orgasm with her.

After finishing with a few passionate kisses and straightening of their clothes, the two walked hand in hand out of the glade. They sat back down on the blanket spread under a tree and enjoyed another glass of wine. The couple had been married a month now and were enjoying bliss and happiness the way newlyweds often do. Melanie was finding herself often tired and sore in the mornings as her new husband's manly prowess in bed never ceased to end.

During the days, she watched William as he learned the different duties of the farm. She smiled when she had seen him walk along behind a plow. Tavington often insisted on doing the work himself although there were slaves and farm hands, acknowledging that he wanted to learn it all. Sometimes the couple would toil around the farm together. They enjoyed working side by side in the strawberries, picking the fruit together and sometimes pausing to feed each other the luscious berries.

Last afternoon and evening at dinner, William had become quiet and introspective. He had been the same way this morning at breakfast and during their picnic as well. Mrs. Tavington hoped that it was nothing serious. She wondered if he might be feeling overwhelmed with having to learn all the farm jobs.

"Will," she began gently, "is something bothering you?"

"No. Why?" he asked as he swallowed the last bit of wine from his glass.

"You've been more quiet than usual this last day or so," she replied.

"Oh…I'm sorry, darling," replied Tavington. "I'm trying to let my mind digest all I've had to learn about the farm in these past few days. Not to worry, though. I'll learn."

Melanie felt relieved that it was nothing serious. After a pause, the officer leaned forward and took his wife's mouth with his, giving her a loving kiss.

"I'm sorry, dear, but we have to bring this lovely time to an end," he apologized. "I'm meeting with Mr. Andrews this afternoon about the mill."

Mrs. Tavington gave her husband a frown, then playfully kissed his lips. "We'll have to picnic again soon, Will," she said with a sly smile.

"You may count on that," the general confirmed with an equally devious grin. With that, he stood up on the blanket and stretched.

Melanie began putting things away, gathering them into the picnic basket. The young woman needed to fold the blanket but found her husband's coat lying upon it. She looked around for William who was near his horse. The girl watched him for an instant as he surveyed the land through his long glass.

After a moment, Mrs. Tavington gathered the general's coat off the blanket and into her arms. As she rose from the blanket, she noticed a folded letter on the ground that had probably fallen from Will's coat. As Melanie picked it up to tuck it back into the officer's frock, she noticed the greeting of the letter, words of congratulations on their recent marriage. The young woman smiled and opened the letter, wondering who it was from and anxious to see who was sending them well wishes.

_Tavington,_

_ Allow me to congratulate you on your recent marriage. You've certainly obtained one of the fairest beauties of this countryside from one of the finest and wealthiest families. Does it bother you that you've married Brutal Bordon's whore? _

_ Just because you are married to a pacifist's daughter doesn't change many things. You may think you have the area's residents and your business associates fooled, but mark my words, many will remember your misdeeds. Many people know of the good patriot's blood you have spilled. Marrying Hayden Prescott's daughter does not change your reputation._

_ There will always be those who witnessed and suffered your horrid ways. There will be those who want you to pay._

_Colonel Benjamin Martin_

A shocked and frightened Melanie could feel her own labored breathing as she folded the note up. She remembered Colonel Martin from the South Carolina Assembly meetings with her father, and from months ago when she had been kidnapped from the fort. The young woman recalled being shocked when she'd been told by Alexander that Martin had killed nearly a whole detachment of redcoats—she could hardly believe it.

General Tavington was putting his long glass away, always satisfied at looking at the land that was now his. He turned to find his young wife walking toward him with something in her hand.

"William," she began with slight irritation in her voice, "why didn't you show me this letter?"

A scowl quickly crossed his face remembering that he'd hidden the letter that had arrived yesterday. He immediately thought that she must have been looking through his jacket pockets.

"It fell out of your jacket pocket," she explained before he could say anything.

"It's nothing," he said, reaching for the letter.

Melanie grabbed it away from his grasp. "Yes it is," she argued, "It's horrid and threatening."

Will was finally able to rescue the note from her grip. He folded it haphazardly and shoved it into his breeches pocket.

"Are we in danger," Mrs. Tavington asked.

"No, of course not," he disagreed. "This farm is well protected."

"Will, you told me he left his own men and came after _you_ at the battle at Saunders' meadow."

"Yes, probably because I'd killed his oldest son only days before that," he stated. "You were there that day. You saw me kill Corporal Martin to defend myself."

His wife shuddered as she remembered that morning—she's watched the whole thing from behind the bushes, where Alex Bordon asked her to hide. "Yes. He was standing over you with a knife."

Melanie paused, then went on. "But his actions; this letter. Something doesn't seem right. It's odd." She looked away, out over the pasture, as if trying to find an answer there. Her mind whirled crazily, thinking the situation over.

"Darling, lots of men want blood for blood," Tavington pointed out.

"Yes, I know," his wife said as she turned back toward him, "but if every man on both sides of this conflict went after the soldier on the opposite side that had killed a loved one, there would be thousands of honor duels and no military battles."

Mrs. Tavington knew that in the time of war, that most men understood that there was a good chance of a male family member getting killed. She also knew that most men didn't challenge duels of honor during war because there wasn't the luxury of time or even the knowledge of the name of which soldier killed that family member.

"There's got to be something more," Melanie said in a low voice, thinking aloud, shaking her head. "There has to be another reason why he came after you."

"He's an eccentric with a reckless streak," said Will. "He is erratic in his military dealings."

Melanie suddenly got a bad feeling in her gut, as if her husband was shielding her from something. "No, Will. There's something you're not telling me." She looked into his eyes.

He returned her gaze with a stern look. "Melanie, I will not discuss military matters with you."

"William, Colonel Martin did not act eccentric at the last South Carolina Assembly that I saw him at," she stated. "On the contrary. He was rather calm and soft spoken that morning, very level headed. In fact as I recall, he preferred not to fight."

The general said nothing as he listened to his wife's reasoning. "And months back when the rebels kidnapped me, he was respectful and kind to me when the others weren't."

The young woman became quiet a moment, allowing her husband to think about her words a minute. She also wanted to give him a chance to speak up. After his continued, stubborn silence, Mrs. Tavington spoke up again.

"What aren't you _telling_ me?," she asked again, her tone beseeching him for the answer. "I'm your wife! I deserve to know!"

The obstinate officer turned his back to his wife and looked out over the land. He hadn't told her all that had transpired between himself and the Martin family, and had hoped to keep that a secret. To him, it was just military matters—why would she need to be worried with it?

With still no answer from her husband, Melanie crossed the grass to him. She put a gentle hand on his arm. "William, you know that I will be understanding and forgiving. Please tell me. Was there something else that happened between you and this man?"

He turned and looked down at his pretty wife, her eyes full of longing. Then the officer relented. "Months back, I killed his second oldest son at his farm one day when we raided the area. The boy attacked on of his Majesty's soldiers in an attempt to free Corporal Martin, whom we were sending to Winnsboro to be hung as a spy. I had no choice but to shoot the lad."

Melanie was shocked at hearing that he'd killed a young boy, but tried not to show it for she desperately wanted William to keep talking; to tell her the truth. The girl did not want to have to hear it in gossip from soldiers in the future.

General Tavington continued. "I had the house, barns and fields burnt. We took the horses, livestock, and foodstores and slaves. He had nothing left. He joined the war after that."

The officer swallowed hard, then went on. "We learned from intelligence that he left his children with his sister-in-law. In fact, the last time you rode with us, last autumn, the first home we burned, was hers. We found out later that she and the children escaped just moments before."

Melanie recalled the series of homes and farms that the dragoons burned that last time she was out on campaign with them. Though blindfolded, she had figured out what they were doing. Her husband's voice pulled her out of her recollections.

"We did eventually catch up to Martin's sister-in law," Will continued, "we found her hiding in a safehouse where she picked up and dropped off information for Martin and his rebels. I ravished her, then let all the men have their turns with her as well."

Mrs. Tavington's jaw dropped open. "All?"

William knew what she was asking. "Yes—_all_ the men," he answered. "That included Alex."

The young woman closed her eyes and shook her head, feeling sick. It was hard on her to hear it from her husband's own mouth that both he and her lover participated in such a heinous act.

"She survived in one piece," Tavington said, sounding nearly disgusted. "We let her go afterwards, leaving her gang raped and beaten, as a message to Colonel Martin."

Melanie stood there silently, in disbelief at just how many times her husband's and Colonel Benjamin Martin's paths had crossed—and on just how deep the personal level of crossing had been. She could say nothing, letting William continue on.

"That isn't the last of it, I'm afraid," he prefaced the next bit of his story. Mrs. Tavington sighed and looked away, closing her eyes, unsure now if she even wanted to hear the next bit.

"When you were with us last, and we were in the village of Pembroke," he went on, "Alex and I overheard a conversation between townspeople when you and Wilkins had been sent out to collect villagers to the church. We learned that Corporal Gabriel Martin's new young wife had just returned to the town, and that she was pregnant with his child."

William stopped, swallowed hard, then went on. "She was in the church when we burned it."

Mrs. Tavington felt sick. She was so sorry that her husband's duty in this war had become so intertwined with this South Carolina farmer's.

"Your feeling that there was more was correct, darling," he conceded. "I murdered his two oldest sons, his daughter-in-law, and unborn grandchild. I burned his farm and those of his family, and ravished and beat his sister-in-law."

"Oh, Will, what have you done!?" Melanie despaired aloud, turning away from her husband. She was in disbelief as this had shaken her out of her marital bliss. With William at home and not on active duty these last few months, she had forgotten how harsh and stern his actions could be while on campaign.

The general took his wife's hand and pulled her to him. He held her a moment, trying to assuage her fears. But she pulled away and looked up at him with concern.

"It's clear that he wants revenge," she exclaimed as she pulled away from him. "Oh Will! Won't I have enough to worry about when you go back to duty? Now I have to worry about a vengeful rebel!"

"Shhhhh…sshhh…sshhhh…, Melanie," he comforted her as he pulled her back against him. "I survived the last battle and I can assure you that if I should catch sight of Colonel Martin again I shall put a bullet or a blade in him!"

"But the farm? Me?", she questioned shakily, looking up at him again. "Am I in danger? What about when you're gone?"

"No, no, darling," he cajoled as he kissed her hair, "Martin and his men are well into North Carolina now. And in a few weeks, they will be even further North…into Virginia."

"And what of after the war?" she asked.

"He's clearly not a good militia leader if he will leave his men to come after one man during a battle," stated Tavington, "His unwise military decisions will most likely lead to his death. We're not going to have to worry about him after the war because I'm confident he won't live through it!"

Melanie hugged her husband's body tightly. "I hope you're right."

The officer pulled away from his wife slightly. He cupped her chin with his hand and raised her face to look into his. "Please forgive me, darling," he began with much sincerity in his voice, "I didn't want to tell you the ugly business. I didn't want to upset you."

"I understand, Will," she replied quietly.

The general's arms slid down to her waist as his wife's hooked around his neck. Then, the two shared a deep, passionate kiss, unhurried and sensual.

After a moment, the beautiful kiss and moment between the newlyweds was interrupted by the clearing of a throat. The two stopped the kiss and released each other from the embrace. They were surprised to see Colonel Tarleton standing there.

"Ahem… sorry to disturb your intimacy," he apologized, "A messenger just came."

He handed the note to General Tavington, then continued.

"I've been recalled to active duty," Banastre announced. "They're sending someone to collect me in a couple of days."

* * *

Major James Wilkins volunteered to lead the detachment that would collect Colonel Tarleton and escort him to headquarters at Winnsboro. Jim could use the opportunity of being home for a couple of days to check on his plantation, brewery and winery business. He especially looked forward to reuniting with his pregnant wife, anxious to see her now four month, slightly swollen belly, which she had excitedly written him about.

Tonight, a small group of five assembled for an impromptu dinner at the Wilkins' sumptuous mansion. Banastre Tarleton was the guest of honor at his small affair to bid him farewell. The Tavington's were there as well, and all enjoyed the feast at this cozy, little party.

Melanie had been quiet during the dinner. She knew that when Commander Tarleton was recalled, that William's time to leave couldn't be far behind, and she was enjoying her time with her new husband and wedded bliss. Still, she put on a brave face and smiled prettily throughout the dinner.

Afterwards, the officer's wives excused themselves for a short hike around the lawn. Bridget Wilkins and Melanie Tavington stepped off the grand veranda together, linking arms and already whispering to each other and giggling.

Mrs. Wilkins turned back toward the men. "We'll leave you men to your battle plans."

"You mean gossip, darling," Jim retorted jokingly with his wife. "Call it what it is!"

Ban Tarleton watched both women as they meandered away from the porch and across the grass. His eyes were glued squarely on both women's hips as they swayed from side to side softly.

Tarleton spoke while his eyes never left the officers' wives' backsides all the while. "You two have certainly won yourselves the most beautiful of women."

"Yes," Tavington agreed, "But you'd best take your eyes off their pretty little bums lest you anger the husbands."

"I can admire, can't I?" Ban questioned back. "You should consider it a compliment to have other men admiring their……uh…..curvy assets."

"By the way," Jim interjected, "I noticed you leering across the dinner table at my wife's more than ample cleavage."

"I was admiring _both_ of your wives fetching bosoms," confessed Ban with a crooked smile.

The usually gentlemanly and reserved Wilkins shot back with an unusually lewd comment. "Pregnancy does have its advantages. Not only fills out the belly, but fills out the breasts as well!"

The trio off officers laughed, clinking their brandy snifters and commenting in unison with a hearty, "Hear hear!"

"Ah, but you're leaving out the best advantage of all to a bellyful. A man can slip his yard in and out of her without the fear of making her pregnant….for she already is! Call it 'fear-free fucking!", Banastre commented obscenely.

The officers once again laughed at their bawdy comments. Each man continued to lean casually against a wall or railing or column, enjoying the after dinner wine.

Jim broke the latest lull in conversation. "The whole of Fort Carolina knows of your marriage now to Miss Prescott."

"I would wager that the whole countryside knows by now," Colonel Tarleton chimed in.

"The rebels certainly know," Tavington said as he shifted his body. He put his hand in his jacket pocket and produced Benjamin Martin's rambling letter to him. The general gave it to the other two men to read. "Look at this letter I received a few days ago from Colonel Martin of the militia."

"The 'ghost'," asked Tarleton.

"The very same," confirmed Will.

James and Banastre read over the letter as William continued speaking. "I've told you how he left his men at the cowpens battle to come after me."

"Yes. An extraordinary move," Tarleton sniffed in disdain. "What good commander would do that?"

"He's unusual," Wilkins joined in. "Tells his men to shoot highest ranking officers first and empty as many cavalry saddles as possible."

"As I recall, we captured one of his men during a skirmish prior to the battle at Guilford Courthouse," Ban stated. "He was a sharpshooter; hadn't been with been with the militia long but he was already quite disgusted with it."

Banastre took a pull on his drink, then went on. "He told us that Martin had offered him rewards to cross the lines and execute Tavington."

William shifted his weight to his other foot, then straightened up to stand tall, perturbed at what he was hearing. "And why am I just now being informed of this?"

"You were convalescing at the time and safe here," Ban pointed out, "and the sharpshooter is now tucked securely into our prison, so there's no worry."

Wilkins spoke up. "We picked up a deserter from Martin's unit recently while out on patrol. He left because of Martin's increasingly erratic actions."

Jim handed the folded letter back to General Tavington and continued speaking. "The deserter told us that his orders didn't seem to make sense a lot of the time. He also stated that he overheard Colonel Martin talking to his dead wife, and that he had become obsessed with Colonel Tavington."

Commander Tarleton added yet more to the conversation. "Recently, I overheard your servants gossiping, Tav. Apparently, they'd been to town and talked with servants from some other plantation."

Wilkins hooted aloud at this announcement. "You two are not used to plantation life here in South Carolina. The network of gossip between slaves and servants is huge! The channel leads from one farm to the next. Every time they come back from town they have a new story to tell!"

Jim took a drink of his wine, and continued. "It _is_ a good way to obtain information. But a horrible thing if _you're_ the subject of the gossip. They don't hesitate to spread around who is beating whose wife or who so and so's new mistress is, etcetera!"

"Watch yourself, Willy old boy," Banastre warned with a sly smile, "or you may find _yourself_ the subject of gossip."

"That would be nothing new. You and I already are, are we not?" Tavington retorted smartly. "So, go on, Banny. Just what _were_ my servants saying?"

"They were talking that Colonel Martin had married his sister-in-law recently and that she is carrying his child," Banastre told. "But apparently there is unrest in the household. His oldest daughter is now estranged from him; refuses to talk to him."

"I believe he has a teenaged daughter named Margaret," Wilkins confirmed.

"These servants said that Martin had asked his daughter—a virgin—to aid him in catching Colonel Tavington, telling her that her actions would aid the rebel cause," said Ban. "He wanted her to seduce our friend here to lure him into a trap, in which Martin would then kill him. She was appalled that her father would ask her such a thing. The new Mrs. Martin has had her hands full trying to keep peace within the household."

Tavington stood upright again, feeling uncomfortable at all the talk and gossip aimed at him. "Again, why wasn't I told of this?"

"I thought it too farfetched," Colonel Tarleton explained. "I rather wanted to tell your servants to get a message to Martin that _I myself _would be more than happy to spoil his daughter's virtue."

The officers laughed heartily at the thought. Banastre emptied his glass then went on.

"Now it makes sense," he opined. "The man is acting recklessly."

"You are right," Wilkins agreed. "We picked up a recent bit of intelligence that says that Colonel Harry Burwell has someone watching Martin closely."

"Ah…perhaps he is thinking of removing him from service," Tavington commented.

One of Wilkins' house servants came out onto the porch bearing a freshly opened bottle of brandy. He poured each of the men new drinks then moved back into the house. The men rested easily, enjoying the quiet of the evening, as they sipped of their refreshed drinks.

After a moment, James broke the silence. "All this gossip of Colonel Martin and the note that the General has shared with us is starting to fit together in _my_ mind."

William and Ban shot him quizzical looks. Jim saw the question in their faces and elaborated.

"To me, it's all in perspective now," he pronounced, "for I know something you don't."

"Pray tell," Tavington coaxed.

"Yes! Out with it, Wilkins!" cajoled Tarleton.

"Six years ago, Colonel Martin's wife died in childbirth," he began. "The distraught man sought consolation from one of his pretty house slaves. Word is, she became pregnant. When she did, he sent her to Charles Towne to be sold at market."

"Probably didn't want his little darkie by blow mixing with his legitimate children," Ban remarked coarsely, provoking laughter from the group.

Wilkins went on. "My older sister, Adelaide Macy, and her husband have a large plantation north of Charles Towne. Five years ago or so, they were in need of a house slave, so they purchased Martin's slave woman—his mistress. A few month after they bought her, she had a mulatto child. The infant was sickly and only lived a few weeks."

Jim paused to take a sip of his brandy. Then he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. The other two officers said nothing, looking up at him and listening intently.

"Last autumn, I received a letter from my sister Adelaide. Nothing special. She just told me of the happenings around her farm," Wilkins stated. "She mentioned in it that Martin's former slave whore had become ill—she was sick for months and had just died. She had Syphilis."

William's and Banastre's faces lit up at the revelation. Wilkins spoke aloud what all three men were now thinking.

"Gentleman, I'll wager that Colonel Martin probably contracted Syphilis and is now going insane," Wilkins surmised.

"It certainly explains his actions," Tavington remarked.

"Well, he'll either die in battle from his reckless actions," Ban guessed, "or he'll succumb to the disease.

General Tavington took another pull on his drink. Inwardly, he breathed a sigh of relief that Colonel Martin would probably not last through the war.

* * *

The short carriage ride home back to the Tavington's farm was calm and uneventful. The three occupants of the vehicle, Melanie, William, and Banastre passed the moments with polite conversation. Mainly, the general and the colonel conversed while Mrs. Tavington was quiet and distant, looking out the window at the passing countryside.

Once home, Melanie bid good night to the two officers and hurried up the steps and into the house. William could tell something was bothering her. Tavington lingered with Banastre a minute, listening to his plans for the rest of the night.

"I plan on bidding farewell to the ladies of this camp in a most proper and fitting fashion," Ban announced. "I am going to roger as many of them tonight as possible, making it a memorable night for all!"

"You're incorrigible, Ban."

"Why don't you come along, Tav," he coaxed, "It would be fun! Like old times."

"Um….I don't think the missus would like that too well," Will said with a crooked smile.

"What she doesn't know won't hurt her," he sang, "I won't say a thing."

William laughed. "News travels fast around here. She will find out sooner or later."

"Well, I'd better be off," Ban said, "to start the evening now if I plan on working my

way through all of them!"

Will watched his friend saunter away toward the camp follower's tents. Then he turned and mounted the stairway to the porch and raced into the house.

Once upstairs, he found his wife already stripped down to her corset and chemise. He crossed the room and took hold of the laces of her stay, quickly untying it and helping his wife out of the constricting garment. William gave her a kiss which she returned with one that was less than enthusiastic. She left his embrace and crossed the room to the window seat, where she sat down and looked out into the darkness.

Will, left standing in the middle of the room, studied his wife for a moment. Her actions confirmed to him that something was bothering her.

"Alright, out with it," he said. "What's troubling you?"

She was quiet and didn't answer. She didn't want to.

"Melanie?"

His wife sighed. "William, I don't want to bring it up. We've been through it before and I'm sure you get tired of hearing about it."

The girl got up from the window seat and walked across the large bedroom toward the bed. She shook her head and sighed in resignation, "Let's just go to bed."

Tavington caught his wife's hand as she passed him and pulled her toward him. "Let me guess: it's about having a child."

Mrs. Tavington rolled her eyes, looked down at the floor and tried to get away from the officer.

"Melanie?" he asked again as he cupped her chin.

"Yes, that's it," she answered. She yanked her arm out of his grip. "So let's just go—"

"Did something happen?," asked Will with concern. "Was something said?"

The young woman turned away from her husband and looked up at the ceiling. She was truly sorry and felt embarrassed that she was still upset over this and didn't want to bother her husband with it.

She took a breath, then let it out. The girl fought back tears as she talked. "Um…Bridget's belly is starting to swell a bit. She pulled her skirt taut against her middle and I could see that it was rounding."

"Yes," her husband said quietly, acknowledging that he understood. He waited silently for her to go on.

"And….um…the baby has started moving," Melanie said. "She can feel it now. She's so excited."

Melanie sniffled, feeling the tears starting to roll down her cheeks. "It's just….well…I'm happy for Bridget, but I'm so sad for myself. Isn't that shameful?" The poor girl began to sob.

William pulled his wife to her and wrapped his arms securely about her. She hid her face in his chest and wept.

"Darling, I know you're upset," he comforted. "I know it hurts you."

After a few moments of crying, Melanie got ahold of herself and stopped. "Let's go to bed, William," she sniffled.

With that, she tucked her chemise clad body into bed and laid her head down. She watched her husband as he doffed his clothes. He soon slid his nude, muscular body into bed beside his wife. He heard her sniffling and saw her still dabbing at her eyes and assumed her too distraught at the moment for lovemaking. Instead he spooned her, pulling her against him, holding her there. The newlyweds soon fell fast asleep.

* * *

"Watch out! You're going to fall!"

"Don't step on my feet!"

"Wait! Where did I leave my bottle of wine?"

"Shhh! Ladies! If we don't keep it down, we'll wake up the Tavingtons!", Banastre scolded the two whores that were holding him up. The trio, all drunk, were stumbling across the front green toward the barns.

"Good!," the red haired doxy retorted. "Maybe that handsome general will come down here and join us!"

"Too bad he's married now," the raven haired trollop. "He was good in bed!"

"Maybe the colonel here can keep his wife occupied while we take turns with the general!," one of the strumpets said to the other.

"Will you two _please_ quit thinking about General Tavington and think about taking care of _my_ needs, tonight!" Ban requested.

The trio took a few more steps, then Banastre tripped over his own alcohol flimsy legs, taking his two female companions down with him. All three laughed heartily, and continued to laugh as they kept falling over one another while trying to help each other up.

All the racket they made outside was enough to rouse General Tavington from his sleep. He went to his window and looked out to see the hilarious scene unfolding before his eyes. The officer smiled and chuckled quietly at his friend, Ban, who was certainly making the most of his last night here.

Will continued to watch the trio as they finally made it to their feet, with the aid of a tree to pull themselves up on. Soon, in the moonlight which was just enough to illuminate the lawn, William saw the red haired prostitute push Tarleton's drunken body against the tree, back to it, and begin to kiss him. He watched as an instant later, the raven haired whore knelt on the ground in front of him and began going down on him.

Another moment was all of this that Tavington could take as he felt himself getting aroused. He turned away from the obscenity on the green to his sleeping wife in bed. Only she was no longer sound asleep but sitting up in bed.

"What is it, Will?" she asked him.

"Oh….nothing, darling," he said, "just some animals mating in the bushes causing a ruckus."

Melanie smiled at him. "Come back to bed, William."

Once again, he tucked his lean, nude body into bed next to his wife. He took her hand and kissed it, opened it and then kissed her palm sensually. The officer then moved her hand down to his semi hardened manhood, which soon stiffened as her hand glided over it. She smiled at him, knowing what he wanted.

William soon closed her fist around his member and guided it up and down. "Slowly," he purred into her ear.

His wife complied and moved her hand up and down his hardness with long and slow strokes as he requested, driving the man nearly insane. After a few moments of this, Mrs. Tavington could tell by her husband's soft groans that he was near completion. She kissed his mouth and neck softly, then trailed kisses to his ear.

"Come for me, William," she whispered sensuously.

That was all it took for him to explode and leave his seed all over his belly and her hand. The girl found her handkerchief on the nightstand and cleaned the two of them up. Soon, they were tucked cozily back into bed with each other's arms, asleep.

* * *

Author's notes:

"Yard" is a slang term of that era for the penis

"By Blow" is a slang term of that era for bastard child

"Mulatto" is term of that era for mixed racial person, usually African and Caucasian.

"Pray tell" is please

Servants and slaves of different households in that era did pass a lot of gossip between them when meeting in town and with their masters/mistresses they accompanied to social events. It really was a way that people heard news through the colonies and countryside.


	58. Chapter 58 Behind Closed Doors

Chapter 58 Behind Closed Doors

"Has the General returned yet?," Melanie asked the servants as she peeked her head into the preparation kitchen of the house.

"No, Ma'am," a chorus answered from the servants.

It was nearly ten o'clock at night. Melanie was preparing to go to bed and there was no sign of her husband. General Tavington had ridden into the nearby village of Devington today to close a new business deal with a new client for the plantation. She had kissed him goodbye at eleven this morning and really thought he'd be home by supper.

"Has there been any word from him?," an anxious Mrs. Tavington asked, hoping her husband had sent a message back to the farm.

"No," Mrs. Sloane said. "Would you like to know if there's a message or when he's arrived?"

"Uh….no," Melanie said with a weary shake of her head. "I'm going to retire now. I'll just see him upstairs whenever he comes in."

"Very good, Ma'am," Mrs. Sloane replied. "Good night."

"Yes, Good night to all of you," Mrs. Tavington bid to the servants.

Melanie ascended the curving stairway, candle in hand, wondering what was taking William so long. She had rather hoped to have dinner with him and spend a quiet evening with the man. Once in their bedroom, she drew the light curtains over the open windows which let in the cooling evening breeze. The June day had been so hot that the young woman was glad to strip down to just her light, gauzy chemise.

Mrs. Tavington stretched out across the bed on top of the covers and began to read. The girl tried to put the thoughts of Will's tardiness out of her head and enjoy the book. Sometime during her reading, she fell asleep over the book and on top of the covers.

The young woman awoke when a bank of cool breezes swept across her body. She propped herself up on her elbow and looked about the room, somewhat disoriented. Melanie soon realized that she'd fallen asleep while reading. She closed the book as she sat up and looked across the room to the clock, which read nearly midnight.

The young wife got out of bed and walked to the window. She pushed the curtain aside and looked out over the dark green, hoping to see William riding up the lane. When she didn't, she sighed and walked back to the bed. Mrs. Tavington laid her book on the nightstand and crawled into bed under the covers. Giving up on seeing her husband tonight, she blew out the candle and laid her head on the pillow, soon falling asleep.

* * *

Sometime later, Melanie awoke to banging about in her bedroom. She sat up, pulling the covers over her body modestly, and looked about the dark room. The girl sighed with relief when she recognized her husband's silhouette in the dark.

"Oh, you're awake," she heard a surprised William say. She noticed that he was slurring his words. Mrs. Tavington quickly surmised that her husband had been drinking.

"I am now," Melanie retorted.

"Sorry darling," the officer apologized as he tried to stay upright while removing his jacket.

"You've been drinking," she stated, only thinly veiling the accusation as a statement.

"Oh, just a wee bit," he smirked, then burst into laughter as if he'd just accidentally revealed a secret.

"Will, lay down and I'll get you some Ward's and a cold rag for your head," his wife requested, wanting to help him stave off the inevitable hangover she knew he would have.

"No, I feel fine," he slurred as his jacket hit the floor, missing the chairback he'd aimed for. "Help me with my cravat, darling?"

Mrs. Tavington got out of bed and strode across the floor to where her husband stood. The young woman reached up to his neck and began loosening his stock, catching a whiff of his breath as she did.

"Oh, my Lord, William! You smell like a brewery!," she declared as her fingers struggled to work his cravat loose. The girl was finding this not an easy task as the general's body swayed back and forth.

"Sorry darling," he apologized. Will then lowered his head to steal a kiss from his wife, which she quickly evaded.

Melanie stepped back from Will, watching as he tottered while unbuttoning his vest and shirt. She wondered what _else_ besides drinking he had been doing all this time that he was gone but was afraid to ask, not sure she wanted to know the answer.

General Tavington could tell that his wife was slightly miffed at him. Fussing with getting his shirt off, he eventually freed it from his torso and dropped it onto the floor. He now stood before her in nothing but his black breeches.

"I was a good husband," he stammered with his alcohol laced tongue. "I've not been with any other women tonight." The officer moved toward his wife.

She stepped back away from him. "Will, please," she said in a tone trying to deter him. The young woman knew that he probably wanted to have relations, but she had no desire to lay with a drunken man—even if it was her husband.

"Melanie! Come here!," General Tavington exclaimed in a commanding tone.

"No, Will. Not tonight," she answered.

The officer took a step closer to his wife and narrowed his eyes at her. "You DARE refuse my husbandly right?", asked Will, stammering out his question.

"Just tonight," the young woman replied in a meek voice, trying to keep calm. She was becoming a little alarmed, remembering how he'd threatened her on their wedding night and how volatile his temper could be. She desperately tried to keep the mood light. The girl ran a teasing finger tip down his shoulder and over his bicep. "You may have me all you like tomorrow when you're sober."

Tavington caught her hand, clasping it hard. "No! I want you now," he proclaimed as he backed her up to the wall. The inebriated officer once again tried to steal a kiss from her, which she dodged.

Mrs. Tavington was now with her back flat against the wall. She yanked her hand out of William's and pressed herself back harder into the wall, wishing she could melt into it. The young woman once again tried reasoning with her drunken husband.

"William….it's just….I…I want you to remember our time together," the girl stated. "With you this intoxicated, I fear you won't recall the passion we share."

"It will be thunderous as it always is," William snidely shot back. With that, he moved his body to where it barely touched his wife's, and pushed his hands up under her chemise top.

Melanie instinctively slapped him across the face. He stopped his fumbling hands instantly and pulled back from her. Will then grabbed her shoulders, pinning her to the wall. His wife swung to slap him again but he caught her wrist, squeezing it hard.

"You dare defy me?" he questioned with fury in his eyes as he looked down at her.

The young woman panicked. "Will STOP!," she screamed, hoping to alert someone—anyone—to help her.

Just after she yelled, the general slapped her hard across the face, leaving her stunned. Her hand automatically went to her cheek, covering the stinging patch of skin. The girl looked up at her husband with questioning tears in her eyes.

Soon she felt William's body pushing her into the wall, pinning her there with his weight. He began pawing all over her body drunkenly with his hands. Melanie stood still in shock over being hit by her husband, doing nothing to stop him. Soon she felt one of his hands slip up her top and the other pulling her skirt up.

Suddenly, Mrs. Tavington snapped out of her stupor and began to push Will's insistant hands away. She fought him as best as she could. Struggling still against him, she finally got a push into his weaving body, just enough of one to wedge herself from his hold.

Melanie ran from the room, Will's hand tearing the delicate material of her skirt as he grabbed at it to try to stop her. The intoxicated officer reached out after her, stretching his body far, lost his balance, then fell to the floor, allowing the young woman to flee the room.

"Get back here now, Melanie!"

As she ran down the hallway, the woman noticed that her screaming had roused at least two of the servants. She noticed that Mrs. Sloane and Diedre were standing at the bottom of the stairs, looking up in horror at the commotion. Mrs. Tavington shot the servants a look that begged for them to help her.

Diedre, the young housemaid, was so disturbed by what she saw that she started up the stairway, wanting to get to the plantation's mistress. The girl was stopped, however, by Mrs. Sloane as she put a commanding hand on her wrist, silently cautioning her to stop.

"No! We don't interfere," she whispered the warning. Mr. Andrews and Mrs. Sloane both had to remind the staff from time to time not to interfere in anything going on between the master and the mistress of the house. So, Diedre watched helplessly as her mistress beseeched anyone within earshot for help.

Melanie reached the far bedroom at the end of the hallway. The young woman slammed the door behind her and locked it. She only had a few seconds to catch her breath before General Tavington was soon pounding on it with ferocity.

"OPEN THIS DOOR, WOMAN!"

"No," his wife yelled back through the door.

"MELANIE!" he barked ferociously.

"Please, Will, just lay down and sleep it off!", she shouted to him.

"If you think a locked door can keep me out, you are sorely mistaken!" the drunken officer snarled.

Mrs. Tavington stood in the middle of the bedroom, wringing her hands. She hoped that William, in his drunkenness, would get discouraged at the barrier between them and go away. The girl tiptoed across the rug to the window, looking outside, not knowing what she was looking for in the way of help.

Suddenly, she heard a loud crashing sound as the door seemed to explode. William had kicked the door open, breaking the lock completely and splintering all the wood around it.

The angry officer stormed through the door and grabbed his wife's arm in a bruising hold, making her whimper. He then started pulling her toward the door, looking down at her with eyes burning in anger.

"Lock me out, will you?!", he snorted, pulling her along all the while. "I'll be damned if my wife is going to deny me my right!"

Tavington dragged her down the hall by the wrist, the stunned servants still standing at the foot of the stairs watching the scene unfold. Melanie tried to resist, every few feet digging her heels into the hallway carpet runner only to nearly stumble each time.

"No Will NO!," a frantic Melanie screamed.

Once back in their bedroom, William slammed the door shut and threw his wife into the middle of the room. The man stepped toward her menacingly, pointing at the bed.

"Get into that bed, now!" Tavington ordered.

There was no time for his wife to think, so she shot back, standing her ground as best she could. "No, I won't!", she refused. "Not while you're drunk!"

The alcohol only served to lower the general's threshold that held his temper. His wife's resistance and the locked door had put the man over the edge and he was determined not to take "no" for an answer.

"It isn't a choice, Melanie," he growled through gritted teeth, "NOW DO IT!"

Tears once again stung hard at the young woman's eyes. The woman was desperate, not wanting to go through with the act yet not wanting to get hurt bodily again.

She tried begging meekly again to him. "Will, please don't make me."

General Tavington had had enough. He walked to where his weapon belt hung over the spindle on the bed's footboard. Once there, he drew his sword from its scabbard.

Seeing this, Melanie panicked, not sure what her drunken husband would do. Now extremely frightened, she watched his actions intently, still wondering how she could get away from him.

The officer lunged at her, grabbing her in a lightning quick motion. "Oh God, No! Don't! William PLEASE!" she pleaded, sure that he was going to kill her.

The general pitched the young woman hard into the wall, her face hitting it squarely. She had only a second to blink the blurred vision from her eyes before her husband was right behind her again. He twisted her arm hard up and behind her back at a painful angle, making her wince.

That alone and the slight pressure kept her effectively pushed against the wall.

As he held her there with one hand, he drew back the other hand that held the his saber. In an instant he brought the sword down, whacking the woman severely across her bottom with the flat side of it. The sting of it against her was worse than any other hit she'd ever received in her life before. She saw white sheets flash before her eyes at the point of contact, the gauzy material of her skirt not affording her skin any protection. Melanie howled out in pain, then fought to catch her breath.

The young woman stayed against the wall, not even sure if she could stand after that painful strike to her body. Then she felt Will loosen his grip on her slightly, and it was just enough for her to slip away from the wall. She stumbled toward the doorway.

Before she could get there, William struck her again with the weapon's flat side. This time, the strike contacted her legs just above her knees, knocking her legs out from under her. Melanie saw flashes of light before her eyes with the pain. She screamed out again in shock and pain as she fell face forward onto the floor.

As her body and mind were occupied with the burning, searing pain, Tavington landed on top of her and turned her body over supine beneath him. "You will give me what I want," yelled William. The officer roughly pried her legs apart, keeping them open wide with his knees.

Melanie tried her best to fight him from beneath but soon found herself overpowered. Will grabbed her wrists and pinned them down to the floor above her head. With superior strength, he shifted himself to where he held both her wrists now in one of his hands, effectively holding her body down with his. He quickly fumbled with his breeches, getting them undone and freed his raging erection.

"No William! I'm not ready to receive you," she begged, feeling that she wasn't wet between her legs for him to easily penetrate her. The girl knew it would hurt without sufficient vaginal lubrication.

Her husband paid no heed to her pleadings. After positioning himself at her entrance, he shoved his stiffened manhood up into her as hard as he could, forcing it in, making his wife cry out in pain. Will heaved himself forcefully in and out of her, making Melanie wail aloud, feeling as though someone was using a saw to cut up into her.

"Oh, William oh God! Please stop," she begged weakly through her tears. He had beaten his poor wife's will down. "You won't get completion while you're this drunk!"

The reasoning and begging fell on deaf ears. Still holding her down with one hand, he pushed her chemise up over her chest. His mouth latched on to one of her nipples, sucking hard to where it was painful and not pleasure filled.

Melanie writhed in misery below him, knowing that a man full of alcohol might take forever—or even not at all—to ejaculate. With no lubrication between her legs, it could be a long, painful night.

She turned her head to the side and wept as William continued banging himself into her. He had been at it for some many minutes. The continued driving of his cock into her dryness felt like sandpaper to her. The young woman prayed for him to either come or pass out soon.

After what seemed like an eternity, the woman turned her head back toward her husband just in time to see his eyes close. His motions stopped and his body collapsed onto hers.

Melanie stopped her crying and listened to William. When she heard deep breathing, she realized that he had passed out. With that, she cautiously pushed his body off of hers, lest she risk waking him from his stupor. The girl rolled her battered body over carefully, then used the footboard of the bed to pull herself up to standing.

Then the girl made her way toward the door, walking gingerly as she did, wincing with pain from the dry intercourse. The young woman felt as if she had been rubbed raw. As she stepped softly, she looked about their bedroom, seeing the disarray of things broken and knocked askew, clothes scattered about the floor, all showing signs of a struggle.

Mrs. Tavington eased herself down the stairs, fighting back tears again as she quietly entered the parlor. The girl stood in a quiet stupor in the middle of the room, still shocked at what William had just done to her. She was startled suddenly and jumped when Mrs. Sloane entered the area.

The head housekeeper had not only seen the struggle, but heard most of it from where she stood on the first floor. She was saddened for not only the young wife, whom she'd known since the girl was little, but also for the couple. She could recall only a handful of fights between the young woman's parents, the late Mr. and Mrs. Prescott, who loved each other madly and faithfully. The servant was upset to see this newly married couple fighting after just a few short weeks of bliss. She also worried for the mistress, hoping that Tavington was now showing true colors, maybe turning out to be an abusive drunk—she didn't know the officer that well.

Melanie's face and eyes were red and swollen from crying, and her left cheek was starting to bruise from where William had slapped her. Her chemise was torn, and the poor girl looked weary and frazzled.

Mrs. Tavington wasn't sure how much Mrs. Sloane had seen and heard. Though the girl was embarrassed, she held her head up, and tried to act as if she was fine, wanting to spare both herself and the trusted servant anymore embarrassment. "Um….Mrs. Sloane," she began, trying to keep her voice from breaking, "would you please have the men go up and put the general into bed. He passed out on the floor."

Melanie stopped and took a breath, composing herself. Then she added in a quiet voice, "He was very drunk."

"Yes Ma'am," Sloan complied. "Right away."

"Please, don't worry about the mess in the bedroom tonight," instructed Melanie, "I don't want him disturbed at all. You can clean it up after her awakens today."

"No worries, Mrs. Tavington," the head servant assured the plantation mistress. Mrs. Sloane then hurried away to get two of the male servants to help the general into bed.

Melanie, now alone in the room, sat down on the couch, wincing in pain as she did. Unable to sit without discomfort, she soon curled herself into a fetal position.

Mrs. Sloane found her there a few moments later as she lit a candle in the parlor. She reached over the couch and touched Melanie's shouldering gently. "Would you like me to make up the couch into a bed for you tonight?"

"Yes," the young woman replied, as she sat up. The girl wiped a rogue tear from her eye.

Mrs. Sloane had noticed the girl's torn undergarments. "I have a clean nightgown fresh from the laundry. I just folded it tonight to put away tomorrow. Would you like me to bring it to you?"

"Yes, thank you," Mrs. Tavington replied.

In a moment the servant had returned with the garment. Melanie retired to a dark corner of the room, shedding her torn chemise and dawning the freshly washed nightgown. She turned to watch Mrs. Sloane finishing up making the couch into a temporary bed for the night. The young woman thanked her faithful head servant as she eased her sore body under the sheets, curling up again on the sofa.

As the older woman readied to leave, she turned at the doorway back to the shaken plantation mistress. "Ma'am, if it helps," she began in a gentle, reassuring voice, "the first year of marriage is the worst." She recalled this from her own experience, having been a widow and childless for many years, which is how she came to work for the Prescott family.

Mrs. Sloane did feel badly for the young bride and tried to help as far as she could without interfering. "Take heart. Along with the bliss that comes with first being married, there is also a period of adjustment and learning about one another. It will pass and you two shall learn how to make a household together."

"Thank you," Melanie stammered, nodding her head as the servant left.

The young wife settled into her pillow and forced her eyes shut, trying to sleep. But she couldn't: her mind whipping about in circles, recalling the events of the night.

Also, she now had confirmation that William_ would_ force her to submit, just as he'd threatened. Mrs. Tavington wondered if this would become a regular episode in their marriage. Confusion reigned in her mind, and soon the poor, exhausted girl eventually cried herself to sleep.

* * *

**Author's notes:**

Kitchen: I am just now realizing that I have referred to kitchens in RevWar era houses of the time in my stories. This creates maybe some confusion because of how we today use the term kitchen and what it is in our homes today. At that time, in large houses or mansions/manor houses, the cooking was actually done in a separate small building at least a few feet from the main house due to the danger and frequency of fires. In my stories, when I refer to the kitchen in the main house, I am actually referring to a small to medium sized room in the main house where the servants would do some food preparation before cooking, and then after the food was cooked and brought to the main house where it would be put into the proper serving dishes, plates, etc and served in the dining area. And, if there was room, the servants would take their meals in this room, separate from the family. I have visited alot of different sized plantations, and some call the kitchen different names such at "preparation kitchen," "Warming kitchen", "servant's kitchen", etc. At the Brattonsville Plantation, the house where "Patriot" was filmed as Aunt Charlotte's plantation, there is a small prep kitchen in the back of the house that isn't shown in the movie. Also, the formal dining room that Tavington goes into where one of the young Martin sons in hiding under the table, is actually a separate room of it's own attached to the main house by a covered, open breezeway. Under this building, as you see in the movie where the rest of the children and Aunt Charlotte are hiding when the dragoons raid the home, is what the historians there thought at one time was a , or another, preparation or warming kitchen, that later may have become a root cellar. Just so you know that when I refer to a kitchen inside the house in the large homes in any of my stories, that it's not technically like kitchens of today in that no "heated" cooking was done in them.

"Ward's": We see in the story that Melanie offers to get William some "Ward's and a cold rag" for his head trying to stave off an impending hangover. "Ward's" was a popular headache remedy in Pill, drop, and powder form (??I believe??) of the time according to some medical books and journals of the time. There was also a headache essence that could be homemade from a Ward's recipe. It was applied to the forehead--rubbed on.

Flat of a sword: The flat side of a sword/sabre was often used to strike a person--in defense, battle, or as punishment. From what I have read, it hurt TERRIBLY!!! The only thing I could even think it close to is getting hit by one of those wooden paint spatula stirrers--only those are thin and wood and would give/flex a bit when being hit. A sabre of heavy metal that may or may not flex at all had to have been horrible!

"Tie in" note for this chapter and last chapter: We see in last chapter (57) the "servant/slave gossip network" results--the officers have heard from their own servants' gossip about the state of a certain militia officer and an episode he'd had with a slave and the results that manifest years later. In this chapter, you see the root of the gossip--we see the plantation master and mistress, newlyweds, fighting physically and loudly enough that it rouses the servants. Even though the servants/slaves were cautioned (here AND in real life history) not to interfere with what happens between their masters and mistresses, that didn't mean that they couldn't talk of it to other people they knew. And, they were probably warned not to speak of the happenings, as well, but we see from historical writings in journals and letters that the happenings were spoken of/gossiped about!

**_thank you, faithful readers, for continuing to stay with this gargantuan story. Also, thanks for comments, reviews, emails, support! Thanks for understanding with some errors, typos, grammar, etc, that I miss while editing. I am forever catching them later (and cringing as I do) and correcting them when I see them. And, especially, thanks for patience while waiting for chapters--full time job, life, family, real life, etc can keep one busy! _**

**_JScorpio_**

**_Indianapolis, Indiana, USA_**

**_--author "The Boundary", "Bordon's Girl", and "The Pacifist's Daughter"_**


	59. Chapter 59 Apologies, Emotions, News

Chapter 59 Apologies, Emotions, News

"Oh," groaned General Tavington as he rolled over in bed. The officer clamped his eyes shut when the light pierced them, feeling like pins and needles poking at them. He laid there on his back a moment, trying to wake up and clear the cobwebs from his head, which was pounding.

As he slowly opened his eyes, William realized he remembered nothing from the night before. The last thing he could recall was drinking heavily with a business client in the pub in Devington around eight in the evening. He could not recollect how he got home.

When his eyes were able to focus, Tavington looked about the bedroom and sighed aloud. Furniture was askew, things were broken, and his clothes scattered about. The man wondered what had happened, hoping he had not caused it.

Will turned his body slightly, groaning as he did at how stiff it was. He piled his pillows up against the headboard and reclined back. There was a knock at the door and before his mouth could even form the words to answer, the maid Diedre breezed in.

"Oh good," she said with a smile as she crossed the room, "you're awake."

The maid sat her tray down on the nightstand next to the bed, stealing a glance at her employer's bare chest, finely chiseled with muscle. "I brought you some tea, and some Ward's for your head."

"Thank you," the general said in a tired, quiet voice.

He watched as the young maid dipped a rag in the basin of cold water, then wrung it out. She bent forward to place the rag on Tavington's head. The officer reached up and caught her wrist before she could.

"Uh…I'd like my wife to attend to me," he requested.

"She can't, sir."

"Why not? Where is she?," asked William with concern.

"She's attending the south orchard with Mr. Barnes today," informed the maid as she laid the folded rag down on the tray. "Begging your pardon, sir, but I heard him asking for you this morning, saying that you'd promised to help him there today. Your wife told him you were ill and that she would help in your stead."

Tavington sank back into the pillow, heaving a sigh as he closed his eyes. He felt bad that he hadn't been in the condition to follow through on his words and that Melanie was doing it instead.

"What time is it," he asked as he massaged his aching forehead with his right hand.

"Four in the afternoon," answered Diedre.

"Why wasn't I awakened earlier?"

"Mrs. Tavington wanted you to sleep it off," the maid replied.

"What happened in here? Why hasn't the room been cleaned?" Will asked, his voice conveying slight irritation now.

"We had strict orders from your wife to leave it be and clean later," stated Diedre, "we were not to disturb you."

"What happened here?" Will asked cautiously.

The maid suddenly looked nervous. "Um…you should talk to Mrs. Tavington about it," the girl deferred, not wanting to talk about the things she saw and heard last night.

The general was too hung over still to press the issue. "Alright," he relented. "Would you please have a bath sent up for me later to one of the other bedrooms? This can be cleaned while I bathe."

"Yes, sir," she answered dutifully. "What about the lock and the broken door down the hallway?"

William was thoroughly confused. He looked strangely at the maid. "Broken door?", he asked, repeating her words.

Again, she looked uncomfortable at having to answer questions about last night, which was something that was a sensitive and personal nature. "Um….well..you…," she stammered, "you broke the door down. The lock is broken as well as the wood around it."

Again, General Tavington didn't push for answers, but still wondered what was so drastic that happened that would cause him to kick a door open in his own house. Instead, the man sank down in bed and pulled the covers up, ready to go back to bed a little longer to recover further.

"Uh….Ask Mr. Andrews to look at it and decide what to do," William said resignedly.

"Yes sir," she said with a curtsy, "Very good." The maid quickly disappeared.

William took a sip of the tea, rubbed some of the Ward's essence across his forehead, then closed his eyes and hoped that sleep would come quickly.

* * *

General Tavington descended the stairway slowly, his head still aching. It was about eight in the evening and the officer was looking forward to seeing his wife over dinner.

He entered the dining room to find Melanie already seated. Mrs. Sloane was placing the plates on the table. Mrs. Tavington looked up from where she sat at the table up at her husband. Will stood silent in the doorway, looking casual in his pants, vest, and shirt with cravat done up loosely. His hair was pulled back in a queue, but loose and not braided. The young woman drew in a breath and marveled at how she could still find him so roguishly handsome in the midst of her own fury at him.

"I'd like dinner alone with Mrs. Tavington," the man said to Mrs. Sloane, "Please see that we are not disturbed."

"Yes, very good, sir," the head houseservant answered. The older woman shut the door behind her, leaving the newlyweds alone with each other.

Melanie tucked her head down, avoiding looking at the general as he walked around to his chair. He took the seat at the head of the table next to his wife.

"Good evening, Melanie."

"General," she replied coldly. Still angry with him, she resolved not to look at him and to speak to him as little as possible. The girl stared straight ahead out the picture window.

"I…uh…made a very lucrative deal for us with Mr. Cummings last night," Will began, sounding formal but trying to keep things light and friendly. "He will be the wealthiest of our clients. It will insure the future of our plantation."

"Good," his wife replied.

He was really hoping that she might throw her arms about him and tell him how proud she was of him. Or at least for a more animated answer.

After a minute of short, curt answers and coldness from her, he surmised that she must be upset with him. Probably for something he did last night. He hoped that an apology from him would do them well.

Tavington took a deep breath, then began in a cautious, measured tone. "I'd like to apologize for coming in so late last night and for not sending a message to you. You must have been worried."

"I was," Melanie replied, then took a pull of her wine.

She was still acting like a stonewall to him, so he figured that there was something more; his tardiness wasn't the only issue. He figured that she was angry with him for coming home drunk.

"I'm also sorry for coming home so intoxicated," he said. "It was celebratory, really. Mr. Cummings and I were both so pleased with the deal that we drank to it—and kept on drinking."

Melanie looked at him directly in the eyes for the first time, with a look that told him that his sarcasm was not welcome.

"Darling….I was…..I just….," he stammered as he tried to explain things, "I was elated. It was irresponsible of me, I know. The last thing I remember was looking at my watch in the pub at nine in the evening."

"I didn't think you'd remember any of last night," Melanie said harshly.

"No, I don't," he said. "I don't like getting that drunk. I have drank with soldiers and officers before but I always stop at my limit. I indulged too much last night and lost control. I don't fancy not being in control. I'm a plantation manager now and a military commander of men."

"And _your wife_!" Melanie shot back.

Tavington slumped a little in his chair, wondering what he had done to make her say that. He apologized again.

"Darling, I honestly don't remember anything of what happened last night," the man said in a sincere voice. "I'm sorry."

There was an unwieldy silence that now hung between the couple. William tried to stay stoic, but began to worry inside that something very bad must have happened. He closed his eyes and rubbed at his temples, his head still pounding.

"Alright, Melanie, I surrender," he said. "My head still hurts too much to play games. And I am practically having to pull short answers out of you with a mule team, so why don't you just tell me what happened."

Mrs. Tavington's anger had grown in just the few moments that she had been in his presence. She secretly delighted that his head still hurt, telling herself that he deserved the hangover.

The young wife took a deep breath, composing herself, and looked again at her husband. She could tell he was trying to be patient, sitting back relaxed in his chair, waiting patiently to here the account of the evening.

Melanie steeled her heart and emotions within, wanting not to betray too much of herself, and not wanting to explode at her husband. She sighed again, and looked straight ahead out the window as she began to recount to Will, what had transpired.

The general listened intently to her account of what happened, saying nothing as he did. The more he listened, the more moved to emotion he became inside—a whirlwind of them. He felt shocked at what he had done. Sure, he had maybe been too drunk a couple of times before and took advantage of a harlot, but he was not married at the time. The man cringed inside at how violent he'd been toward her. William was just as embarrassed at his own lack of control, getting that drunk and being that disorderly. By her words, it was clear he showed no discretion and all the servants had probably heard and seen what went on.

Then, he became angry at Melanie's audacity at even thinking that she had the right to refuse his advances as a husband—whether he was drunk or sober. The officer was also incensed that she had dared to lock him out of a bedroom in his own house. When he'd heard the part of the denial of his husbandly rights, he then understood more of himself and why he became so entirely violent at her.

In another way, he felt remorse that he'd treated his wife so badly that she was now frightened of him. And although she did not have the right to deny her body to him, he did not want her to shrink from him. Or worse: become a cold fish in bed. After all, he rather loved how she was warm and receptive to him, and an enthusiastic lover who responded to his touch and initiated her own.

William sighed inwardly, and did feel badly that he'd been so hard on his new wife. His heart was moved when, telling of how she was hit with his saber, that her voice broke and quivered, and how she stammered when saying 'you str….stru…..struck me.'

He had been harsh to women before: prisoners, spies, camp followers, servants, but things were different now. This was his wife—a woman of class and distinction. For once this brave officer who never made apologies for any of his actions, no matter how terrible, who never felt regret, felt remorse at what he'd done. Melanie had trusted him in marrying him, giving him all of her wealth and her body.

Though Tavington would have normally chastised his wife for refusing him sexual favors and would have then told her that the punishment was just, he decided to say nothing of it. He wanted to at least live in harmony with his wife and was very much enjoying the bliss of the marriage so far. Also, he wanted her warmth of heart toward him, and hoped that she would eventually love him.

William decided wisely to smooth things over. He hoped that an apology and an affirmation of his deep feelings toward her would go a long way.

He reached out cautiously, and took her hand in his. The officer was amazed when she did not pull it away. "Melanie, I am sorry darling. I am appalled at my own behavior last night and I refuse to blame it on the drink. I will sincerely try not to come home that drunk ever again."

Mrs. Tavington said nothing, staring in astonishment at her husband.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"I'm not used to you issuing apologies," she stated quietly.

"Well, I don't in military situations," he proclaimed, which he knew that she already knew. "But this is different. We're married and I want us to be right with each other."

Melanie didn't feel as upset with him now, almost feeling badly herself at being so short with him earlier. "Well, alcohol does give one false bravery and make one do things they wouldn't usually do."

Will sighed inside himself, glad that she had let him off the hook with her making the excuse for his bad behavior because of the drink.

"I'm sorry darling," he apologized again. "I hope you know that I do adore you."

She smiled and blushed at him, looking away. Then her ice melted totally, and she felt relieved that this was now behind them. Mrs. Tavington looked up and caught sight of the portrait of her brother, Matthew the priest. Again, she thought of him and how devoted he was to God and the church and it's values.

"You know, my brother Matthew was in the clergy," she said nodding up at his painting on the wall. William knew this for he had seen Father Matthew Prescott's dead body laid out on the grass in front of this very house, with the other murdered members of this fine family. Indeed, that was where Will had first seen Melanie—lying silently on the grass with them, nearly dead herself. Tavington shuddered at that thought and quickly pulled himself back to his wife's words.

"He always wanted people to forgive and give second chances."

"So, does that mean that you forgive me?" William asked, a cautious smile playing lightly about his lips. His ice blue eyes were full of innocence as he looked at her.

"Yes, of course," she said sheepishly.

With that, he took his wife's hand and pulled her over to his chair, pulling her down onto his lap. They began to kiss—feeling it a proper way to make up. They took turns nuzzling and nibbling at each other's neck and ears for a moment.

While Will was busy at her skin, Melanie looked up and caught sight of a rider pulling up outside the window. "Will, there's a messenger."

William was too busy nuzzling at her neck to look up, or even to care. "I'm too busy to care about that rider, darling," he murmured against her skin, making her smile. He took hold of her head and gently pulled her back down to kiss his mouth.

Will's other hand began to snake up one of Melanie's legs and under her skirt. "Oh, Will," Melanie sighed, anxious to feel her husband's ministrations in tenderness. His fingers brushed over her quim, making her catch her breath. "Gently please, darling," she requested in a whisper, "I'm still a little sore there."

Tavington smiled, bound and determined to touch her as softly as he ever had. The couple kissed deeply and were so intent at the business of reconciling that they didn't notice the knock on the door.

The door opened and Mr. Arnold, the butler, walked in with the rider behind him. The two men caught Melanie and William in their moment of bliss. "Begging your pardons, there is a messenger for the general."

The general and his wife both stood up immediately, with Melanie quickly pushing her skirt down, straightening up. She felt flushed with embarrassment having just been caught with her husband's hand beneath her petticoats.

"Sorry for the interruption," the young messenger said, stepping forward to hand two envelopes to someone. "I'm Private Hamilton. I have two messages: one for Colonel Wilton and General Tavington, and the other for the general only."

"I'm General Tavington," he said, "This is my wife."

"Ma'am," the young man acknowledged with a slight bow.

Mrs. Tavington curtsied, then sat again.

Will thanked the messenger when he took the envelopes from his hand. The young private backed out of the room and stood just outside the doorway. Melanie watched William intently as he read the first message.

"Hmm….they're closing the hospital," the officer stated as he refolded the note. "We're to accept no more wounded. They will be sending them elsewhere."

Will's wife smiled inwardly, glad that they would finally have the farm back to themselves. She looked up again as her husband as he opened the second note. She became concerned after a moment when she saw the general frown after reading the message.

"What is it?", asked Mrs. Tavington.

The officer heaved a heavy sigh, then spoke delicately. "Um…I've been restored to active duty. I'm needed back on the battlefields."

"When?" Melanie asked, showing much distress.

"I have to report to Winnsboro in three weeks," he stated. "They're giving me the extra time to get the farm affairs in order."

"Where are they posting you?"

"North, most likely," he answered Melanie's query. "Probably North Carolina, maybe farther, I don't know."

His wife's eyes widened and her faced contorted. In an instant she tore from the dining room in a huff, obviously very upset.

"Melanie!"

Will watched as she ran down the porch and across the grass. He knew where she was headed to.

"Begging your pardon, sir," the young messenger interjected, "I've seen a lot of wives react that same way." Obviously the fledgling private had delivered a lot of reactivation messages lately.

"I'll wager you have," Tavington said with a sigh. "Understandably."

The general paused then added, "We've only been married a few weeks."

"Aye, sir," the young private said with an understanding nod of his head, having seen more than one young bride not wanting to be parted from her husband.

William quickly folded the letter. He had to talk with Colonel Wilton about the hospital message, but knew he also needed to console his wife.

"Are you spending the night?" Will asked the young soldier.

"No, sir," the private replied. "I have to start back tonight with your replies. "

"Have you had anything to eat?"

"No, sir."

"Do you have time for supper?" asked Tavington. "I can get messages ready for you to take back by the time you're finished eating."

"Yes, sir," the young rider said graciously.

"Mrs. Sloane, would you please fix a plate for Private Hamilton," the officer requested. "And send some bread along with him."

"Yes, General," the maid replied. "Right this way, Private."

William headed out of the house toward the gazebo, right where he knew he'd find his wife. He saw her standing there, her arms crossed in front of her, her shoulders rising and fallings with each heave of a breath.

The young woman heard her husband's boots ascend the stairway into the pavilion.

"Darling—"

"I want you to tell them you can't go," she blurted out, interrupting the officer.

He felt terribly. Will was anxious to get back to duty, yet he was enjoying wedded bliss with Melanie and didn't want to leave her. He could tell she was taking the news very hard.

"You know I cannot," he replied gently.

"You're needed here," she defended.

"Melanie, I am King George's officer and needed on the field as well," he began, trying to muster as much sympathy for her as he could. "If I tell His Majesty—and my commanders as well that I am not returning, they will have me hanged."

"But you have a business to run," his wife shot back, giving him all the excuses she could to persuade him to stay.

"So do many other officers."

"You're not well yet," Melanie sniffled, fighting tears back.

"Darling, we both know I am recovered sufficiently," he countered.

"I don't want you to go," Melanie exclaimed, tears threatening to flow. "We just got married."

"I don't want to leave either, my dear," he comforted, "I don't have a choice."

William's wife, who had tried to be stoic, finally eroded into tears. "I lost Alex," she cried, "I don't want to lose you, too!"

The young woman flew into her husband's arms and buried her face in his chest. She wept hard as he held her body tightly to his, rocking her back and forth a little, trying to comfort the poor woman.

William was moved inside. He did not know that she cared so deeply for him, still thinking she that she considered their marriage one of convenience with the perks of affection and some romance.

"Darling, war has raged about you now for nearly 6 years," he comforted, "and you were at the fort for over two years. You have been surrounded by soldiers. You know, by now, the life of an officer."

"That doesn't make things any better," she sobbed into his shirt.

William rubbed her back and kissed her hair, still holding her close, comforting her.

"I don't want you to go," she said again as she wept.

William cupped her chin and gently lifter her head to look up at him. He felt so much pity as he looked at her red, tear stained face.

"You're breaking my heart, Melanie," he said softly. "I didn't know that you cared this deeply for me." Secretly, he was hoping that she might confess love for him.

"Isn't it obvious?" his wife sniffled.

"Of course," he nodded, smiling down at her. After another moment, her sobs died down to soft sniffles. He pushed her slightly back from him, holding her shoulders.

"Look, the messenger has to return tonight and I've yet to speak with Colonel Wilton," Tavington announced. He took her hands and kissed them, then eased her down the steps of the gazebo.

"Go back to the house and you and I will talk later," he directed. With that he put his hand on her cheek softly and traced her lips with his thumb. She looked so helpless and sad to him. The officer bent his tall frame down to give her a kiss. He then gave her bum a smack and sent her off toward the house.

* * *

Author's note: I hope you don't think that Tavington's remorse is completely out of character for him. Please, read on.

Things have changed and he realizes that. He may have treated harlots like that and gotten away with it, but he realizes that things are different now--he is a married man! He takes the wise road of smoothing things over with his wife as he is enjoying her beauty, receptivity of him, her money, plantation and her body, which are now all his! He figures that since this is still new, and at least for now, he doesn't want to blow the good life. And, he does have a deep affection for her, as well. But, as we read, he still does blame his loss of composure on his drunkenness and her refusal of his sexual advances, which a wife wouldn't have had a right to do back then. But, he chooses the higher road and keeps that as his secret feeling, wanting to keep peace and harmony in their marriage. He even gets her to admit that alcohol can cause looseness in people, which in his mind, her stating that aloud has let him off the hook.

But, folks, the story is far from over and old habits die hard. And, our favorite bad boy has not become a saint!


	60. Chapter 60 The Last To Hear

Chapter 60 The Last To Hear

Bridget Wilkins smiled when she caught sight of her husband riding up the lane. He wasn't scheduled to be home this soon. The woman got to her feet and walked down the stairs of the veranda to greet the officer.

James Wilkins dismounted and handed the reins of his horse to a stable boy. He embraced his wife, giving her a warm smile and kiss.

"How's my son?", he asked as he ran his hand over her abdomen. The instant he did, the baby within kicked against his hand. "Oh..he knows his father already!"

"You're so sure it's a boy," Bridget remarked.

"Yes!" the officer exclaimed giving his wife another playful kiss. With that he took his wife's hand and led her toward the porch steps.

"I didn't expect you home so soon," commented Mrs. Wilkins. She was quiet, looking down at the ground as they walked along.

"Aren't you happy to see me?" Major Wilkins asked.

"Yes," she answered.

Jim could tell that there was something bothering his wife. Perhaps something had happened with the farm, he wondered.

"You seem distracted," he stated.

With that, Mrs. Wilkins dismissed the servants, took her husband's arm and led him away from the house. When they were out of earshot of everyone, she spoke.

"I overheard our servants talking," she declared, "It was disturbing."

"What about?" he asked.

They were now a few yards from the house on the front lawn when they stopped. "I sent Ruth and Aram to the market today. They must have run into some of the Tavington's servants. They said that the general came home very intoxicated one evening recently. Apparently he treated Melanie horribly. He forced her to submit to him and he beat her."

She paused as she looked at the surprised yet mute expression on her husband's face. Then she went on. "I'm worried about her. I feel I need to pay her a call."

"That would be fine, but remember the border line," Jim warned. "Do not step over it and interfere. We don't want to suffer the general's wrath."

James Wilkins paused, then added, "And besides that, I've just been put back under his command."

"What?" asked a surprised Bridget.

"General Tavington was just called back to active duty," he announced. "And, we are all being posted North. North Carolina, then eventually Virginia."

"What of us?" Mrs. Wilkins queried.

"I regret that I won't be close enough to visit you like I can now," the officer lamented. "You must stay here and help run this business."

"When do you leave?"

"In two weeks," he replied. "I've been furloughed until then to put our business affairs in order before I depart."

Bridget's hand dropped to her belly, which she rubbed mindlessly. "How long will you be gone? A few weeks?"

"No. I believe it will be a few months."

"What of our child?" asked Bridget, obviously alarmed. "I'm to give birth in November."

"I most likely won't be home," Jim answered. "He'll be born when I'm gone. It won't be the first time that an officer's child is born whilethe officer is away on duty."

"I wanted you here," Bridget said quietly, turning away in disappointment.

Jim turned his wife back around gently to look at him. "I will get home as soon as possible, darling," he promised, kissing her lovingly on the cheek. "Lord Cornwallis wants to put an end to this war soon—before winter if possible. If we are victorious then, I will apply for a transfer to an open position back here as I know he won't want a military campaign in the winter months."

Major Wilkins paused for a moment, then continued on. "I want you to promise me that when you take to child bed, that you will send for Melanie and my sisters to come attend you."

"I will," Bridget said, smiling up at her husband.

* * *

Within a few days of the news of Tavington's reactivation to duty, Melanie had calmed down with the comfort and consolation of her husband. She still did not want him to leave and would miss him but had finally resigned herself to the fact that she was an officer's wife. She could only hope that this next move of both armies to the north might end the conflict.

William had become very busy with the duties of the farm and squaring things away with the overseer and farmhands. Melanie had tried to help as much as she could, receiving instructions from him on how things were to be run in his absence.

A week after General Tavington had been reactivated, Melanie found herself busy in the village, running errands for William. She went from stores to merchants picking up supplies for the farm. As she rounded the corner to the mercantile, she heard her name called.

"Miss Prescott!"

The young woman turned around. She hadn't been called by her maiden name in weeks. She turned about and kept walking. Melanie looked as the list of things left that she needed to buy and sighed.

"Miss Prescott!"

Melanie turned again to see two redcoats waving at her. She turned back and walked toward them. The two soldiers were near a unit of infantry that was milling about. As she got closer, she recognized the two men from Fort Carolina. They were stationed there when she had lived at the fort.

"Private Cole! Private Benson!" she cried with a grin. She then curtsied to the two who bowed in return to her.

Cole had been in the infantry while Melanie was at the fort. His unit happened to be the one that was attached most to the dragoons because of their skill. Benson had been a sentry at the fort, usually posted at the front gate.

"Fancy seeing you here!" Benson declared.

"My home is not far from here," she said shyly. "And….it's Mrs. Tavington now."

"So the rumors are true," Cole remarked.

"Yes. We heard that you married the colonel," Benson agreed.

"He's a general now," Melanie corrected quietly. "How is life at the fort?"

"It hasn't changed that much since you were there," Cole informed.

"We aren't there that much anymore these days," commented Benson.

"A fort without a sentry?" Melanie asked with a puzzled look on her face.

"I'm not a sentry now. I was transferred to the infantry," Benson announced.

"I see," Mrs. Tavington acknowledged. "My husband leaves in a few days to go back to active duty."

"We will surely see him," Cole mused.

"I must go. I have a list of things left to purchase," she bid to them.

The two privates tipped their hats to her. With that, Melanie took her leave of the men. She stepped around the corner of the building and stopped near the bottom of the steps. The young woman studied the list of what she had left yet to buy. She could still hear the voices of the two soldiers babbling on as she looked at the paper in her hand.

"You were still on sentry duty when Colonel Tavington and his legion burnt that church in Pembroke, weren't you?", Private Cole asked Private Benson.

This question got Melanie's attention. She raised her head from the paper. Images of that day began to filter into her head.

"Yes, but I heard the rumors. Did he really order all the villagers into the church?"

"Yes."

"That officer has no morals or remorse when it comes to duty."

Melanie wanted to walk away. She didn't want to hear anything else they had to say. She found herself frozen to her spot.

"I heard another rumor from Pembroke."

"What?"

"A confrontation between he and one of his officers."

Images of that day flooded into Melanie's mind. She remembered Captain Wilkins refusing to torch the church and how mad it made William and Alex. She recalled being astonished and disgusted herself at the order and didn't want to be a witness to the barbarity.

"Yes. That rich loyalist captain challenged him…..and so did Miss Prescott."

"What did she do?"

"She tried to escape. Took a horse and started to run away. She didn't get far. Colonel Tavington shot the horse out from under her."

"Really?"

Melanie closed her eyes and shuddered at the words. She recollected just how fast the horse fell and how heavy it was when it rolled over her. The young woman remembered the crushing of it; feeling as if she would never be able to breathe again.

"Yes. The horse fell on top of her and rolled over her body. She had a miscarriage when she got back to the fort."

"Let me guess: she got her bellyful of Major Bordon's bastard?"

"Yes. After she lost that baby, word went around that she would not be able to bear any children because of it."

"Hmm. And now she's married to the officer that caused her that trouble."

"Aye. Convenient for him. He'll never have to worry about dipping the wick and getting her bellyful!"

Melanie Tavington could not believe what she had just heard. All these months after the day at Pembroke Village, she thought the horse had either lost its footing or thrown a shoe, causing the fall. She never knew that William had caused the beast to stumble.

Then the realization set in that she was married to the man who caused the loss of her child—the only one she would ever have. Her head started to spin, and she lost all awareness of what was going on about her. She suddenly felt shaky and her chest tightened, making it hard to breathe. The girl was still in shock over the revelation. _"My God! I'm married to the man who caused me to miscarry my only child. And now I can't bear anymore. What have I done?" she thought. _

The young lady forced herself to start walking. She hoped she was moving in the direction of where the wagons were parked. She wasn't aware of the hustle and bustle of the market in Devington going on around her as she made her way to her wagons.

As she stepped slowly, Melanie's mind could not stop repeating the fall from the horse. Her body hitting the ground hard and the heavy body of the beast rolling over her, smashing her down. She remembered the physical pain of the miscarriage as it happened and in the days she recovered. She recollected when the doctor told her that her miscarriage was so bad and her body had suffered so much from it and her near death stabbing of months before that she would not be able to conceive.

Mrs. Tavington was met by Mr. Barnes, who was immediately alarmed at how she looked. He knew something wasn't right.

"Mrs. Tavington, what's the trouble?"

"I feel sick," she replied, reaching out to clutch the arm of her loyal farmhand.

Her legs went out from under her and she fell to the ground. Then the girl leaned forward and threw up.

"Ezra! Mrs. Tavington has taken ill!", Barnes yelled to the slave that had driven the buckboard.

The strong slave ran to where the two were. "I'll get a doctor, sir," Ezra said.

"No! No!," Melanie gasped, reaching up to grab at Ezra and stop him. "Please, please, I want to go home. Help me into the wagon, please?"

The two men eased their mistress back to where she reclined in the shade under a small tree. Then they set about to rearranging the supplies in the back of the covered wagon, making a spot for Melanie with some blankets to rest on during the trip back. The men helped her into the wagon, and quickly finished their shopping.

As soon as the rest of the supplies were loaded, they set off back to the plantation. Melanie buried her face in the blankets, doing her best to keep her crying silent, heartbroken at the horrible revelation about her husband.

* * *

"We're home, Mrs. Tavington," Mr. Barnes called back to her from the driver's seat of the wagon.

The girl sat up and looked around, seeing the familiar scenery of her farm pass along the sides of the lane. She felt better, but was still heart sick over Will's actions and of her once again, being seemingly the last person to know of what a man she felt for in her life had done. She recalled feeling just as sick to her stomach when she had learned that Alex was married.

Melanie stepped out of the wagon with help, then made her way up the steps and into the house. She stood in the large reception room, just looking about at it, thinking about choices she had made in her life. The young woman felt dead inside, yet she was alive with rage and loathing. She didn't know what she would do when she would see William—she couldn't be responsible for her actions.

She had trusted this man with everything. Her feelings for him were growing deeper with each day that passed. He had even revealed some dark secrets of his military actions to her. But this she didn't know if she could forgive. No—she couldn't forgive. This man, her husband, had killed her unborn child and left her unable to have more children. The girl had worried over this, afraid that he wouldn't want her since she couldn't give him an heir, never knowing it was _his_ actions that had caused the unborn baby's loss.

Mrs. Tavington began to walk lifelessly across the large room. The voice of her husband pulled her out of her stupor.

"Mr. Barnes told me you'd taken ill in the village today," he said as he stood in the doorway of the office. "How are you now?"

She turned slowly and gave him a scowl. "Not much better."

The general came out of the doorway and walked across the room to his wife. "Why don't you go lie down," he said with concern.

His wife said nothing and continued to walk toward the small parlor.

"Melanie?" he called, question in his voice.

At the door of the parlor, she turned slowly and looked at him. "I want you to pack your things and go on to Winnsboro now."

"What? Why now?"

"I want you out of this house," she said calmly; dryly.

"What's wrong with you?" asked Tavington. He took her arm and guided her through the doorway and into the small parlor so that they could talk in private.

"It seems that again, I am the last to find out something very important," his wife began, "about my own husband."

"And what is that?," he asked.

"That day in Pembroke," she began, "when I fled, you shot the horse out from under me!"

William hesitated, remembering that day; recalling his actions. He was somewhat stunned, having thought that Alexander Bordon would have told her of this.

"Yes, I did."

"Will, I was pregnant!", she exclaimed. "Why would you do that?"

"I had to restore order at the time," he answered unapologetically, getting ready to defend his position. "I had you and Wilkins rebelling and I couldn't allow that to spread through the ranks. I had to do it."

"At the expense of my child?" his wife countered, her anger clear.

"I have stopped many fleeing men that way," Will replied flatly.

"You knew I was with child!", she shouted, "Alex told you!"

Tavington took a deep breath. He was trying to stay calm and help get her ire back under control. "I wasn't thinking. I just reacted."

"That fall caused my miscarriage!" she screamed back.

Mrs. Tavington was shaking with fury now. But at the same time, she was on the verge of tears. She did her best to swallow them back.

The young woman turned away from him, shaking her head. "Tavington the butcher," she commented. "I should have known. It wasn't enough for you to kill half of the Martin children but you had to kill mine too!"

"Melanie, have you lost your mind?"

"This was a mistake," she cried. "If I had known this, I never would have married you!"

William reached for his wife, who immediately swatted his arms away and continued on her tirade.

"That was my only child!" she raged, "I'll never have a chance now. I can't conceive. This is all your fault!"

"It was an unfortunate accident—"

"No," she shot back. "You meant to do it!"

"I had to stop you!", countered William, losing his own temper now.

"No you didn't! I was running back to the fort!" she cried.

"How was _I_ to know that?" yelled Will.

"You killed my child!", Melanie shouted, her voice cracking into tears. "Now you don't have to worry about children! You can fuck me as often as you like and never conceive!"

"You acted just as rashly," he accused. "If you wouldn't have run, I wouldn't have had to shoot the beast. Then you'd be raising Bordon's bastard child alone because no man would want you—a dead officer's used up mistress with his by blow!"

Melanie's jaw dropped in disbelief at Will's cruel words. But before she could say anything, he continued on.

"And how about another one of your rash actions," William pointed out, "the one where you wasted no time fucking me while you were angry with Alex!"

"You're despicable!," she said. "I'm leaving." The girl stalked toward the door. Will grabbed her.

"Don't you touch me, you murderer!" she shouted as she tried to jerk herself out of his grip.

With strong hands on both her shoulders, he shook her. "Stop this nonsense and calm down, Melanie!"

"Let go of me! I hate you!"

William had to get this argument back under control. He had never seen Melanie so furious and had to subdue her somehow. He pinned her against the wall and looked into her eyes, trying to talk some kind of sense to her.

"There is nothing you can do to change things now," he said sternly, "it was an accident."

"No! You meant to do it," she retorted, "You just told me that I couldn't be allowed to escape and had to be stopped!"

The young woman wrenched herself free from William's grip and ran for the door. Her husband's voice stopped her in her tracks.

"Melanie! I forbid you to leave and speak of this to anyone!"

She spun on her heel and looked crazily at him. "How do you think_ I_ found out? The gossip is apparently all over!" she screamed, sweeping her arm wide.

"I overheard two infantry soldiers from the fort speaking of it in the village," she continued. "That's how I had to find out!"

"Who?" asked William, ready to tear them apart.

"Why does that matter?," she cried, "The gossip is obviously out there, and I was the last to hear it!"

With that, Mrs. Tavington turned and stomped into the gallery, ready to leave. Melanie was so blind with fury that she did not even notice the servants that had gathered about the room, having been drawn by the screaming argument between the master and mistress.

Will, now at the doorway of the parlor, called across the large room toward the foyer. His voice rang through the massive high ceilinged gallery. He extended his arm, pointing accusatorily toward his wife.

"If you leave, I _will_ punish you when you return," General Tavington warned with an ominous tone.

"You fiend!," Melanie growled. Then she turned back toward the door, hurrying as fast as she could toward it, then through it. Once outside, she lifted her skirts and ran from the house as fast as she could, not sure where she was running to.

William, furious that his wife had heard this through gossip, and angry with her for defying him and leaving, stepped back into the parlor. He picked up two wine goblets on a nearby table and hurled them in quick succession into the wall, smashing them to bits.

He shouted as he did. "Yankee bitch!"


	61. Chapter 61 Consolation And Desperation

Chapter 61 Consolation And Desperation

"Mrs. Wilkins, Mrs. Tavington is coming up the lane," the servant exclaimed while looking out the window.

A smile crossed Bridget's face, glad to have her friend come to call. She walked out onto the porch fully expecting to be greeted by the Tavington's coach, but instead was alarmed to see her friend traipsing up the path.

The butler ran out to meet the woman, who looked tired and bedraggled. The man helped his mistress' friend ascend the steps into the house. Melanie was shaking and out of breath, barely able to tell Bridget that she had run all the way from her house.

In a moment she collapsed onto the couch and began to cry. A sympathetic Mrs. Wilkins took her friend into her arms, trying to console her. Major Wilkins, hearing the commotion came out of the study and into the large parlor to see what the trouble was.

"Ruth, please get Mrs. Tavington a glass of wine and bring a basin with cold water and a linen, please," Bridget asked.

"What happened?", Jim asked, looking at the state their neighbor woman was in.

"I'm not sure, darling," Bridget replied, "She ran all the way here."

The maid quickly returned with wine and a water basin for their unexpected guest. Melanie sipped a bit of wine as Mrs. Wilkins dabbed her friend's face and neck with the cold water in an attempt to cool her down a bit.

James Wilkins sat in the wingbacked chair near the sofa, pulling it a bit closer to be able to hear the women talk. He suspected that something drastic must have happened at the Tavington house to have made the woman run all the way here.

The servants were dismissed, leaving the couple alone. They listened quietly and patiently as Melanie tearfully recounted what happened between her and William. The Wilkins' were attentive to their friend and neighbor: Bridget holding her friend in her arms trying to console her, and Jim listening quietly, taking the whole situation in.

After a few minutes of talking and crying, Mrs. Tavington finally got hold of herself and calmed down a bit to where she was just sniffling. She dabbed at her tear filled eyes with her handkerchief and sighed.

"Did you know that he'd done that?", she asked both Wilkins. Jim had seen William shoot the horse from under her first hand in Pembroke. He recalled being so stunned that he said nothing to anyone on the ride home to the fort. And Bridget had been equally as shocked when she heard it from Jim as she attended to Melanie during the miscarriage.

Bridget and Jim nodded their heads sorrowfully. Mrs. Tavington looked down at the floor and closed her eyes, then back up again at her confidents.

"I feel like I am always the last to hear things," she proclaimed sadly.

"What do you mean?," asked Bridget.

"Well….when my family died," Melanie began, "It was kept from me for months."

"You were unconscious and near death for so many weeks," Mrs. Wilkins answered.

"Yes, the generals made the decision to keep it from you until you were well and out of danger," Jim explained calmly.

"And then, when I was with Alex, I had no idea that he was married," Melanie lamented, "I had to hear it from the camp whores. I was humiliated."

"I think everyone at the Fort assumed that you knew he was married," Bridget said sympathetically. "I felt terribly for you at that time—I remember how hurt you were. I should have said something."

Mrs. Tavington shook her head in understanding. "And today," she continued, "To hear two privates, that you are barely acquainted with talk of something so private. Did everyone at the Fort know?"

James and Bridget looked silently at each other. They just did not want to hurt their friend anymore than she was already. The couple wanted to be truthful, but easy on the poor girl.

"It was partially known, mostly within the legion and the infantry unit that witnessed it at Pembroke," Jim informed.

"I didn't know any of it," she bemoaned.

Bridget held her friend's hand in comfort. "I thought Alexander would have told you," she stated.

"He didn't ," Melanie simply answered.

"I'm sure he thought you had been through enough and maybe he wanted to shield you," opined Bridget.

While secrets were being revealed, James thought he'd better bring up something else he'd witnessed, assuming that Melanie probably didn't know anything of it, either. "I suppose you didn't know that the Major challenged Tavington to a duel?"

"No. I didn't." Mrs. Tavington looked distressed upon hearing this.

"Yes. He said the colonel had killed his child," James explained, "They fought with swords. Lord Cornwallis made General O'Hara break it up. He didn't want either of his two best officers killed or maimed because of a duel."

Melanie began to tear up again. She stood and paced about the room for a moment, wringing her hands and sobbing.

"Oh, what am I to do?," she cried, "I hate him. I hate what he did to my child, and now what it has done to me. He didn't even deny that he did it! He said horrible things to me and he defended his actions."

"Melanie, come sit down," a sympathetic Mrs. Wilkins begged, "You don't have to resolve things this very minute."

"I never would have married William had I known this," Mrs. Tavington

The Wilkins' friend began to pace at a more frenetic pace. She was breathing hard and shaking her head, as if on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

Bridget shot her husband a worried look. He reached out to grab Melanie by the hand and try to get her to sit down."

"Melanie—"

"I'll get an annulment," she blurted out. "I have good grounds. I married him under false pretenses."

Bridget gave her husband a silent look beseeching him to speak up. Being from Ireland, and also not being raised in the wealth and privilege that her husband and friend grown up in, she wasn't sure what the laws were and how they would hold up with the 'well to do'.

"I'm afraid that won't hold up within the law," James pointed out. "A lot of spouses don't know things about the other one on their wedding day. And, it is his word against yours. He'd deny it and say that you knew."

"Then I'll divorce him."

"No—that is out of the question," Major Wilkins answered firmly. "You married him to repair your reputation and save your business. A divorce would hurt the Prescott name and legacy, as well as his family and position as an officer. It would ruin your plantation—everyone would refuse to deal with a divorced woman. "

"Then I'll throw him out," said Melanie resolutely. "I'll have him banished from the plantation. It is my family's farm!"

"I'm afraid not, Melanie. Not anymore," James informed. "When you married him, everything you own became his. He could actually banish _you_ , then you'd never see your beloved farm again."

"Then we will live separately. I refuse to be near that murderer!"

Jim sighed aloud. He knew that his lifelong friend was on the verge of desperation and losing her mind. And he was running out of answers to give her to prevent her from doing something crazy.

"You could do that, but word will get out, and that won't look good, either."

Mrs. Tavington stopped her pacing and looked at her friends. Tears filled her eyes again. Hopelessness laid heavily upon her face.

"Then what do I do?", she exclaimed. "I hate him. I _won't_ go on living with him."

"I'm afraid you don't' have a choice," Jim said. "You have to, Melanie, even if it is in name only. The two of you must look like a married couple if you want to keep your business and family reputation good and avert gossip."

A distraught Mrs. Tavington wiped the tears from her cheeks as she sat down. Bridget once again took her hand , trying to comfort her friend.

"The two of you will get through this," Mrs. Wilkins said giving her friend's hand a gentle squeeze.

"No.I will never be able to forgive this," Melanie said.

"You may stay with us," Bridget assured her.

"I'll send word to the General that you are here and safe," James said, standing up from his chair.

"No!," shrieked Mrs. Tavington.

"Why not? I'm sure he's worried about you," Bridget pointed out.

"No! He said that if I left the house, that I'd pay for it when I returned."

"I'm sure those were just angry words," soothed Mrs. Wilkins, "Weren't you both angry—"

"Oh, Bridget…..I just……I….," Melanie's voice trailed off again as she broke down into tears.

"You don't have to think of this anymore tonight," Mrs. Wilkins comforted.

With that, she ushered her friend to a guest bedroom for the night. The servants brought her chamomile tea missed with Valerian to help her relax and sleep. Finally feeling safe and comfortable, Melanie Tavington dropped off to sleep, exhausted from the emotions she'd been through today.

Later that evening, Bridget and Jim Wilkins retired to their bedroom, both still disturbed by what their friend had learned.

Bridget stood in front of the window, looking out into the dark night sky, her arms folded in front of her. She sighed, worried about Melanie and hoping she wouldn't do anything rash in the next few days.

Jim Wilkins had stripped down to his breeches. He came up behind his wife and slipped his arms around her, then ran his hands over her swollen belly.

"I know this is upsetting," Jim murmured into his wife's ear.

"I think she should stay with us for a few days," Bridget remarked.

"No, darling, she can't," her husband replied.

"Why?" asked Mrs. Wilkins as she turned in her husband's arms to face him.

"She _has_ a home and a marriage," James reminded, "She belongs _there_."

"We can't send her home," Bridget stated as she stepped away from Jim, "She's so upset with William. She's afraid of him."

"She will get over this."

"You heard her. The rumors I heard about him beating her must be true," Bridget alluded. "He threatened to punish her."

"That's not our concern," James indicated.

An astonished Bridget looked distressed at her husband. "How could you be so heartless?"

"Bridget, I _do_ care, but this is not _our_ business," he replied. "We can't interfere in another couple's marriage. Also, I can't get involved in my superior officer's personal business. I don't want any retribution—"

"Surely he wouldn't….." his wife's voice trailed off.

"I wouldn't second guess the man."

"If the general hasn't come for her by tomorrow afternoon," Jim informed, "then we will send her home. Nothing is going to get resolved anyway with her here and him there."

Bridget blew the last candle in their bedroom out, then made her way over to her husband. She slipped her arms around him in the new darkness of the room.

"She deserves an understanding husband," Mrs. Wilkins remarked.

"Like me?", Jim teased, nuzzling her neck.

"Yes! But I won't share," Bridget whispered.

With that, the couple shared a deep, passionate kiss, then moved toward their bed. Bridget helped nudge Jim's breeches down as he lifted her chemise up and over her head.

"Why don't you let me show you how understanding I am," James murmured. "Understanding of you and your enticing body."

The Wilkins' then slid into the cool sheets of their bed, where they could affirm their love for each other well into the night.


	62. Chapter 62 The Cost Of Defiance

My note to readers: Thanks again for your continued support and for reading and staying with this epic of a story. I truly did not want or even think it would get THIS LONG! Also, thanks for your patience when I run 10 days to a couple of weeks between updates--sometimes I just can't get to it in a timely manner. Thanks to the crew: Trace, Est, Cal, and Mel (you know who you are) for your support, suggestions, help!

I honestly can not tell you all to enjoy this chapter. I am sure you will understand why.

Thanks

JScorpio

Chapter 62 The Cost Of Defiance

As the Wilkins' carriage bounced along during the short ride between plantations, Mrs. Tavington dozed off. Though she had slept well and secure at her neighbor's home, the revelation about her husband's action had left her worn out mentally and emotionally.

Soon the carriage came to an abrupt stop, enough to wake the young woman from her short sleep. Melanie looked out the window and up at her house. She took a deep breath before exiting the vehicle, not sure what William's mood would be today. Surely, she thought, that he had calmed down and with some sleep, had realized why she was upset and had to get out of his presence temporarily.

As she ascended the steps to the porch, she was immediately dismayed to see two strumpets from the camp lounging on her veranda, sipping wine. The scowl on the plantation mistress' face was apparent as she stepped off the stairs.

"Why are you here?" she demanded in a less than cordial tone.

"We were invited," one of the harlots answered in a thick, East London accent.

"Yes, by the general," the other one chimed in with the same accent.

"Well, you can leave now and don't ever come up here again," Melanie exclaimed.

The two whores left their wine glasses on the small table, got up and left, giving Mrs. Tavington mean, spiteful looks. She glared back at them. Once they were down the steps, they looked back at her and taunted.

"Your husband is very good in bed!" one teased.

"Yes! He satisfied us over and over again," the other one called in a sing song manner.

Melanie was livid, especially after having given her husband the benefit of the doubt that he would understand her own dismay. She could not believe that he had brought those two harridans into her house.

The young woman entered the house and spied Diedre, the house maid. "Where is the general?" she asked.

The young maid gulped and hesitated before answering. "Um….he's….a…he's in the study, Ma'am." The girl curtsied quickly and hurried into the kitchen equally as fast.

Mrs. Tavington arrived at the door of the study. From the doorway, the sight she beheld made her even more furious. Her husband was sitting on the edge of his desk, running his fingers up and down the side of the shapely hips of a young doxy. Both Tavington and the girl did not notice that they now had company.

Melanie cleared her throat. Her eyes shot tiny daggers at the two. "Ahem…..get out!" she said in a raised voice to the girl. The young whore lifted her skirts and pressed past the mistress of the house as fast as she could.

"I am absent one night and you bring those trollops into our house; our bed!" Melanie yelled.

"You weren't here attending to your wifely duties, were you," William shot back accusingly.

Her husband had gone too far this time, she thought. "From now on, we are married in name only," she announced. "I'll be taking a different bedroom."

Will got up from the desk and walked menacingly toward his wife. "Oh no," he proclaimed. "This will not be a marriage in name only. You _will_ attend to your wifely duties without question and complaint….._or else_!"

"You will never touch me again, William Tavington!", she proclaimed defiantly.

"I won't, hmmmm?"

With that, Melanie began to back away from her husband. With a fast lunge he caught her arm in a tight grip. The officer began to drag his wife behind him from the office and across the grand hall heading toward the stairway. She was pulling and struggling behind him to get free from his bruising grasp.

"It seems that you need to be reminded of your place and duties as my wife!" snarled Tavington as he pulled her along.

"No! Stop! Let go of me, William!" She continued to fight, trying to dig her heels in and attempting to hit him with her free hand.

Melanie's screams of protest brought the servants running. They stood aghast, watching the master and mistress of the plantation fight. Will took no heed of them, continuing to force his wife toward the stairway.

At the bottom of the steps, Tavington strongly picked his wife up and slung her body across his shoulder, keeping a tight hold on it. He was quiet as he carried Mrs. Tavington up the curved stairway, with her protesting and beating on him with her free hand all the while.

"Put me down! Stop this!" she screamed.

Once on the landing, the officer continued to carry his wife down the second floor hallway to their bedroom. After they entered, he locked the door quickly, then dropped her onto the floor on her bottom.

She scooted away from him backwards on her bum. By the bed side of the bed she pulled herself up and looked for something nearby to hurl at his head.

As she scanned the room, Will walked toward the bureau where his weapon belt hung. The general calmly pulled his riding crop from the belt. He whacked it lightly, but enough to make a threatening noise, into his palm.

Melanie's eyes widened as her mouth dropped open. She started to inch her way toward the door, trying to put whatever little distance she could between her and William.

"Time for a little discipline," William growled.

The young women took a deep breath, then jumped toward the door. She twisted the doorknob with one hand, and pounded crazily on the door with the other. The girl couldn't get the door to open, sending her into a deeper panic.

"Help me! Somebody help me!", screamed Melanie through the door. "PLEASE!"

General Tavington grabbed his wife around the waist and carried her away from the door. She fought him the short way across the room, her limbs flailing as he lifted her off the floor with one strong arm.

Suddenly he slammed her down to her feet and bent her forward roughly across the small table in their room. He leaned his body sideways onto the trunk of hers, effectively pinning her down, the girl wriggling beneath him still trying to free herself.

William threw the back of her skirts up to her waist, exposing her bare bottom and thighs. With his right arm, he raised the riding crop high then brought it down, landing a hard strike across Melanie's soft ass. The young woman let out a blood curdling scream on contact.

"Don't you ever leave this house again to speak of our business to anyone!" Tavington shouted, then punctuated his demand with another strike to her bare skin. This one landed where her bottom met the top of her thighs.

A scream from Mrs. Tavington cut the air again as the pain from the swat radiated up and down her skin. William raised his arm again.

"Do not ever refuse me relations again!" Will shouted, a third hit cutting across the mid level of the back of her thighs.

Melanie saw stars before her eyes, nearly blinded with the pain. Her legs felt weak, sure that they were going to give out.

"Don't ever lock me from our bedroom again!" William said, hitting Melanie hard a fourth time.

She screamed as the whip lapped across her skin like a hot wire. The young woman continued begging for him to stop.

"Don't every defy me again!" shouted the officer as he struck her yet again across the back of her knees. The sting was horrible, leaving Melanie feeling as if it traveled throughout her whole body. She now saw sheets of white before her eyes and became dizzy, certain that she was going to faint; wishing she would.

Tavington raised his arm again and landed another strike on her skin where her buttocks met with her lower back. Breathing hard, he drew himself up to his full height then threw his riding crop to the floor. He tugged his breeches down and forced his erection into his unwilling and unready wife.

He rutted hard into her, drilling himself as forcefully as he could into and out of her. As he did, Melanie folded her arms and buried her face on them, trying to muffle her sobs.

After a few more strokes, Will came, emitting a satisfied groan as he did. He stood up straight again and inched his pants back up, and let Melanie fall to the floor in a crumpled heap.

Through her tears she saw that she sat near his discarded riding crop, as if planned, as if there to remind her not to misbehave. Melanie was crying inconsolably with the pain and humiliation of it all.

Tavington was panting as he stood, the whole physicality of the episode leaving him near breathless. In another moment, he knelt down in front of his wife, a frightening scowl on his face and fury in his ice blue eyes.

Mrs. Tavington was still weeping, hiding her face on her folded arms upon her drawn up knees. William grabbed her chin between his thumb and forefinger and forced her face up to look at him.

"Now, you are my wife and I expect you to act as nothing less," he began ominously. "You will have relations at my whim or I will make you submit. You will not defy me again. And you will stand by my side, look pretty and happy and keep your mouth shut."

Melanie was shaking with fright now, not sure if her angry husband was through with her or not. She was sniffling, trying to hold her tears back.

"Is that understood?"

"Yes," she sniffled, nodding her head, beaten into submission and her spirit aptly broken.

With that,General Tavington stood, turned without a word, and exited the room. His wife held her breath as he did.

When he left, she hugged her knees to her chest and sobbed again, still in shock over everything. She wished she wasn't married to him, and began to think that maybe she had been spared having a child with William for a reason: the child would be ruled by its father with discipline out of fear and intimidation, instead of love.

Downstairs, the servants watched the general leave the house to attend to duties outside as they worked diligently. The small group had seen the commotion between the two nearly as soon as the missus arrived back home. They witnessed the Melanie fighting against her husband, then being forcibly taken upstairs. They also heard the air splitting screams that came from the mistress and the strike of an object against skin. The servants and slaves thought the worst.

Mrs. Sloane, who reminded all the servants and slaves that they were never to interfere with the plantation owners business, was muttering under her breath to Diedre. This was unusual, the young maid thought, for the head servant usually held her tongue with dignity.

"Shameful! Completely shameful!" she said quietly. "For him to bring those slatterns into this house and the mistress' bed! Mr. Prescott never did anything so scandalous!"

The woman continued on folding the clothes with Diedre, then continued ranting. "Despicable! Horrid for him to treat the mistress that way! She does not deserve it! Mr. Prescott never did anything that wicked to Mrs. Prescott."

The young maid folded the linens quietly, letting the older maid rave on. "Sure, they had their disagreements, but he never lifted a hand to her! He loved and adored her. Oh, what has the missus gotten herself into?"

"Keep on with the folding," instructed Mrs. Sloane, "I'll go check on the mistress."

The older woman moved up the stairway and entered the master bedroom quietly. She spotted Melanie huddled against the wall, hugging her knees to her chest, sniffling. The poor girl was rocking senselessly back and forth.

"Mrs. Tavington, 'tis alright now, the master is gone," the sympathetic maid informed quietly. "He's gone to attend to things outside."

Melanie said nothing, instead nodding her head mutely. As the older maid stood back up straight, she felt a tug on her skirt. She looked down at the pathetic girl.

"I'm going to be sick," said the young wife.

Mrs. Sloane quickly grabbed the wash basin nearby and shoved it in front of the young woman. Melanie leaned forward and threw up into the porcelain bowl. After a moment, she leaned back and rested against the wall, wiping her mouth on the sleeve of her dress.

"Would you like to have a bath brought up?" the older woman asked.

"Yes, please," answered Melanie in a weak and breaking voice.

Within an hour, a tub and hot water were brought into the bedroom. Mrs. Tavington let out a whimper as she pulled herself up off the floor. She groaned as she got undressed, hurting her to do so.

The young woman crossed the floor to the full length mirror. She took her hand mirror from the bureau and viewed her naked backside and legs in the looking glass. Tears flooded her eyes as she saw a few narrow, red raised lines haphazardly crossing the delicate, white skin of her thighs and bottom.

She sucked in a deep breath to stop her crying, then moved again back to the tub. She stepped in, relieved to feel the warm water. Melanie Tavington let out a sigh as she sank her aching body down into the water. The young woman finally felt relief and peace, albeit temporarily, as the warmth of the bath surrounded her battered body.


	63. Chapter 63 Games People Play

**Author's note:** Wow! Huge passionate response from you readers after Melanie's beating in the last chapter. Within 15 minutes of posting the chapter I had messages popping up and was up late trying to answer them all. I finally had to call it a night at 1 am because I had to get some kind of sleep for work the next day! The next morning, even more messages. You all have grown to love Melanie and are fiercely protective of her.

I just want to assure you that the physical beating of Melanie is over—that is what most of the mail and objection was about. She will be fine and Tavington has not become a serial wife beater.

Please know that in the 18th century, men really were "the rulers". They owned all the property the wife may have possessed before the marriage, and basically owned the wife and her body after the marriage—she was also considered a piece of his property. At that time, there weren't laws in place like there are today to protect a wife. Though it may not have been honorable or bragged about, a man could beat or rape his own wife and there was no recourse for it. People and the law did not interfere with what a man did to his wife. We would find that offensive with today's laws and sensibilities. I'm sorry if the chapter offended.

Simply, to William Tavington, she had defied him. To him, the beating was her punishment and deterrent not to do it again.

Both Melanie and William have strong personalities. He is a military commander skilled at intimidation and coercion. ("I remember you on that farm and that stupid little boy! Did he die, hmmm?") And Melanie was raised in a pacifistic household and may have been allowed to have an opinion and speak her mind at home. Melanie hasn't learned yet just when to keep her tongue at bay.

Together, this has caused some friction in this new young marriage. In a sense they don't know how to be married. They both have never been married before and are learning how to live together and be married. Give them some time—they will eventually learn as most couples do!

Thanks again for reading and your patience and understanding.

JScorpio

Chapter 63 Games People Play

It was now early evening and after her bath, a tense and broken spirited Melanie Tavington remained in her bedroom. She was too frightened to leave, afraid of seeing her husband, thinking he might not be done dishing out discipline.

The young woman took supper in her room, though she was too sick hearted to eat much of it. She jumped at every sound she heard outside the confines of the large boudoir, whether coming from outside or inside the house, not sure if it was William coming back. She hoped he had spent his ire and had no more left to inflict on her . Nevertheless she remained nervous and vigilant within the bedroom until bedtime.

She saw no more of General Tavington after he'd finished with her earlier in the afternoon, mercifully. He didn't request her presence at the dinner table, demand that she leave the room, or even come upstairs again.

Melanie finally eased herself into bed at eleven that night, assuming that he would be joining her this night. After two apprehensive hours of laying awake in the dark, she gave herself permission to fall asleep as it seemed that Will would be sleeping elsewhere tonight.

She didn't care or even what to know where he was or what he was doing; the young woman was relieved that he wasn't there.

Indeed, Tavington finished his work outside, then took dinner alone in the dining room, reading a recent newspaper from Charles Towne as he ate. When finished, he then headed out to the tents of the camp followers. The officer spent the night in the arms of the pretty young whore that his wife had chased from the house earlier in the day.

The doxy, a new arrival to camp and fresh from England, had not been with General Tavington before. She enjoyed his adept attentions in her tent all night long.

* * *

The next morning dawned and the staff let the battered plantation mistress rest in. They brought her breakfast in bed, but the girl still hadn't much of an appetite. Melanie thanked God that William had spent the night elsewhere, and that he hadn't awakened her this morning when he came in to change clothes.

Mrs. Tavington planned to spend the rest of the day in the bedroom again, not wishing to cross paths with the general. But she knew she couldn't avoid him forever.

The young wife shifted her bruised body painfully in bed and looked up at the ceiling as she reclined on the pillows. She knew that Will would eventually come for her, and that she had to protect herself somehow, for she felt that if she didn't, that her mind would come unglued.

Melanie laid there quietly, analyzing the situation. She recalled both beatings she had received with a shudder. The woman reviewed the events that led up to each incident. Both times began with her being upset over something he'd done. Both things were clearly his fault: first he had come home extremely drunk, the other, causing her horse to fall which led to her miscarriage. Both instances of his fault ended with her being beaten.

She recollected that he hadn't been upset that she'd confronted him, for he readily admitted fault both times. Melanie remembered that both times she had refused him something. In one instance it was sexual relations. In the other instance she refused to stay at home and not confide of it to someone, then when she'd returned, she'd refused to stay in the same bedroom with him any longer, thus cutting off marital relations altogether.

He was furious when she defied him. Obviously, challenging him or refusing him, to William, equaled defiance, which was intolerable in his eyes. Mrs. Tavington had seen it with his men and prisoners. Defiance deserved punishment. Melanie surmised that she must now guard carefully what she spoke up about and be equally as careful not to defy him. This was her shield to protect herself.

So, she decided that she could be quiet for the remaining few days until her husband left for duty. The young woman knew that he would eventually show up again demanding her body. She made another decision that since he now owned all her property, including her physical person, that she could keep her emotion from him.

Melanie had learned in the few weeks they'd been married that William loved and practically fed off of hearing her satisfaction and joy during lovemaking, and his knowing that he'd brought her to completion. He enjoyed and nearly needed her to respond to him in bed.

So, her next shield would be to become a 'cold fish' in bed: unresponsive to his ministrations and unemotional when dealing with him at any time. He could force her to submit, but he couldn't force her to come to orgasm. She realized that he needed for to have one nearly as much as she wanted one. Mrs. Tavington made a pact with herself not to have an orgasm, or at least to hide it as well as possible and not moan unabashedly. She only hoped her body would not betray her.

* * *

Melanie did remain in her room again all day. And just as she guessed, William appeared that night, demanding that she perform her wifely duties.

When the officer made advance and tried to kiss her, she cooly evaded the romance, calmly removed her clothes, and lay down on the bed. Will assumed she was still upset with him for her beating and that she didn't care for the passion just now. That was fine with him. He could excuse her unresponsiveness for one evening.

A naked William soon covered her body with his and penetrated her. He moved with long, slow strokes inside her for a few moments, kissing her neck and breasts in turn. When he tried to possess her mouth, she turned her head to the side and closed her eyes.

This bothered Tavington more that he would admit aloud or time himself. He had just spent two nights in a row satisfying whores, making them scream, and he wanted none less from his wife. And he never failed to make Melanie coo, purr, and shiver with delight.

The officer took her chin in his hand and forced her to look at him. His eyes betrayed him to her, silently begging her to let him satisfy her. But she stayed cold.

He then claimed her lips with his mouth in a passionate kiss which she did not return. William pulled back from her when she failed to respond.

For an instant, she became scared, afraid that he may be angry and raise his hand to her. She spoke quietly without emotion.

"I didn't refuse you," she murmured steadily, pointing this out. "I've let you have your way with me."

Will know his wife was right in that she'd submitted without question, so he could not honorably punish her.

"It makes no difference to me whether you enjoy this or not," he lied. "That's up to you."

He began to thrust again, this time hard and spitefully. He knew this caused her slight pain because she let a bit of a wince escape.

Then suddenly, he stopped. An evil smirk crossed his face. "Perhaps your body will betray you."

Melanie panicked inside, trying to stay calm. She hoped he was wrong and that her resolve would remain strong.

William withdrew his hardness from her and began to slowly kiss his way down her body. When he lingered on her belly, kissing and nuzzling it softly, she protested without thinking.

"No, Will," she pleaded in a whisper, "Please don't."

Melanie cringed, wishing she could take back her protest. _"How could I be so weak?" she thought. _She cursed herself, then set about to fight off the physical pleasure. _"I can beat this," she thought._

Tavington smiled to himself knowing that he could get to her this way. He knew her well enough to know that she enjoyed his oral pleasuring of her body in lovemaking. The officer knew he could make her come and set out to do so.

Soon Will's mouth was nipping and kissing the insides of her thighs, driving her crazy. After a few moments of that exquisite agony, he moved to her most intimate anatomy, kissing, sucking, and nuzzling all the folds of it except her little pearl. He wanted to draw out the teasing for as long as possible.

After another few minutes of his mouth playing languidly on her womanhood, his tongue snaked out from between his lips and lightly flicked the bud of her core. Her hips twitched slightly, involuntarily, as he did. And Melanie hoped he hadn't noticed this, but he had. His tongue began to dance lightly on the now hardened little pearl.

From between her legs, he stole glances at her body and face, trying to guage if she was close to completion. Then his lips closed around the tiny bud, drawing it into his mouth and sucking lightly on it.

The slight pressure of that suction on it was driving Melanie mad! She let out a nearly inperceptible whimper, hoping it wasn't enough for William to hear.

The young woman fought it as best as she could, but the involuntary physical feelings were winning. She cursed her body for betraying her. The girl threw her arm over her mouth to stifle anymore renegade cries of pleasure that might escape. For good measure, she bit her lip to keep her mouth closed.

Will's tongue continued its assault on her core, flaying her hardened pearl easily. The general smirked to himself when he saw her left hand grab a fistful of the sheets to hang on.

Melanie kept fighting the orgasm as best as she could but knew she was losing the battle. She closed her eyes as the feeling started to wash over her body.

In another moment, her husband sent her over the edge, her back arched and her head thrown back. Her body quaked with the orgasm.

A few whimpers of pleasure escaped her lips, muffled by her arm. Melanie could take only small satisfaction in that she hadn't writhed wildly beneath his touch; that she hadn't moaned loudly in ecstasy calling Will's name over and again.

But William took great delight in that he'd made her come. He pulled his body back up equal to hers and looked her in the eyes. A triumphant smile lit up his face.

"Melanie, you can't win this game," he taunted, "I'm too good at it!"

With that, he thrust his rigid manhood back into her, quickly finishing himself off with a victorious groan. When he was done, he rolled onto his side in bed and much to Melanie's dismay, pulled her betrayer of a body against his and settled in for the night's sleep.

* * *

And so this little game between the two of them continued on every evening until the day he left. At night, William continued trying to make his wife come, and Melanie continued fighting the orgasms and denying him the victory of bringing her to completion.

During the days, the couple barely spoke to each other, much friction from their fights hanging still between them. The atmosphere in the whole house was tense. The servants noticed and began to count the hours until the General returned to duty, hoping his absence would return the mistress to her old self, and peace and tranquility to the homestead.

The servant staff had surmised that the bliss of the honeymoon period was now over.


	64. Chapter 64 Duty Beckons

Chapter 64 Duty Beckons

The Tavington's carriage bumped along the road to Winnsboro. The mid July morning was mild. Storms had come through the area the night before helping to cool the air and take some of the humidity away. The windows were down on the vehicle, letting the cool country air blow gently through the carriage.

Melanie Tavington sat on the seat across from her husband, facing him. The young woman was quiet, her hands folded in her lap. She looked down at the floor, only occasionally glancing up to look out at the passing scenery. The day for William to report to duty had arrived.

Relations between the couple had been strained the last two weeks. They'd played mental and emotional games with each other during their most intimate moments at night. They hardly spoke to each other during the days and spent barely moments at a time in each other's presence. Melanie had not been able to forgive her husband for causing her miscarriage, as well as living with a beating that she'd received from him recently.

Mrs. Tavington had been anxious for the general to leave, hoping that his return to duty and subsequent absence would do them both good. Strangely though this morning, the young woman was apprehensive, almost dreading that her husband was to leave. As furious as she had been at him, she felt that she would miss him.

William, handsome in his red general's uniform, looked across the coach to his quiet wife. He always thought she was beautiful, and he knew he would miss her. Though they hadn't gotten on very well the last two weeks, he wanted to be home a little longer with her, hoping that relations would once again smooth out. Yet, he felt the strong pull to get back to duty.

"Come….sit next to me, Melanie," William coaxed.

She complied, moving over to the seat across from her, sitting down next to her husband. The couple sat quietly for a moment, then Will lean into Melanie just a little and began to nuzzle her neck. He slid one of his arms around his wife and began pulling her skirt up with the other.

Melanie fought him lightly, pushing his hands away, trying to keep his hand from pulling her skirt up any higher.

"William, stop," she protested, trying to push him away. "This isn't the proper place or time."

He continued advancing on her, his hands now traveling all over her body, still trying to get under her skirt. "I may take my wife anywhere I please," he whispered in her ear playfully.

"No, Will, don't", she begged, "The windows are down. People can see us!"

"I care not," he replied. "I won't see you for awhile. I want you one last time before I leave."

Slipping his other arm around her, he pulled his protesting wife up onto his lap facing away from him. Her legs spread naturally on either side of his lap. William reached down and pulled her skirt up to the top of her thighs.

Melanie now felt embarrassed in this scandalous position. She wondered if passersby could see into the carriage and see her spread eagled on her husband's lap. Will's hands moved up her legs and disappeared under her bunched up skirt. The fingers of his right hand slid into the soft folds of her quim, finding her bud, beginning to caress it. The fingers of his left hand slid into her moistness, pushing in and out of her.

Again, the young woman tried to fight against the pleasure. But William's kisses on her neck, then his voice softly coaxing in her ear made her lose all resolve. She loved feeling his fingers within her, and his other fingers massaging her pearl was too much for her. Her head dropped backwards onto his right shoulder. She arched her back against him, reaching back and up behind her with her left arm, hooking it around Will's neck.

"Go ahead and cry out darling," he coaxed, his breath on the shell of her ear, "show me how much you will miss me."

This was all it took for her. Melanie could fight no longer. She yielded to the pleasure and let herself go.

"Oh…..ah….oh….William!" she moaned as she came.

Her husband, pleased that she climaxed, moved her body with strong arms off his lap and pushed her down onto her back on the coach seat. He positioned himself above her, his right leg kneeling up on the seat and his left foot planted on the floor of the carriage. Tavington pushed his pants down enough to free his stiffened manhood. Pushing her skirt up a little higher, he plunged his hardness into her wet womanhood.

He thrust quickly and hard into her at first, then slowed himself down, wanting to stay in control. As he pushed in and out of her with long, slow strokes, he kissed her ears and neck, speaking softly as he did.

"You're going to miss my body against yours," he whispered against her neck, punctuating his words with a thrust.

"You're going to miss my mouth on your nipples ," Will sighed against her ear as he slowly pulled himself nearly all the way out of her.

"You're going to miss my fingers in you," Tavington murmured, then languidly slid his length back into her.

"You're going to miss my tongue between your legs," he breathed against her cheek. He kept his slow rhythm, not missing a stroke.

"You're going to miss my hands on your body," Will whispered, pressing himself back into her.

Melanie was completely lost to him and the feeling, unaware that she had her arms around his body, and just how tightly she held him against her; how close.

"You're going to miss my cock inside of you," he said softly against her neck, heaving himself in deeply, hitting the back of her, making her whimper and moan.

He took her chin gently in his hand and brought her face to his. "You're going to miss my lips on yours." His mouth claimed hers in a devastating kiss which she accepted, no longer wanting to fight it.

Then he stopped his plunging within her, and held himself up on strong arms above her. William looked deeply into her eyes and spoke.

"But most of all, _I_ am going to miss _you_," he proclaimed, "because… I love you just a bit."

He brought his face back down to hers and kissed his wife, unaware that tears now dotted the corners of her eyes. Melanie held his body tightly to hers, not wanting him to see that he'd brought her to tears. She never expected to hear him say that to her. But she was moved to tears because she could not say those words back to him now.

The next moment, Will, still inside her, raised his body up slightly, reached forward and over his wife's head to grip the edge of the open window as he had gripped the headboard of their bed many times. He used it to help steady himself as he drove his hardness as far into her as he could. Melanie drew her knees up, letting him penetrate her as deeply and easily as he could. After a few more strokes, they came together, with his body collapsing onto hers, panting all the while.

Soon the couple were putting straightening their clothes up again. Melanie raised up to go back to the seat across from her husband, but he clutched her wrist, stopping her.

"Please…..stay next to me for the rest of the ride," he said.

Melanie simply nodded her head and remained seated near him. She stayed quiet, watching the scenery out the window of the carriage, now more confused than ever. This man who she deemed a fiend and the killer of her unborn baby, whom she had hated the last two weeks, had just confessed love for her. What was she to do? What was she to think?

Lost in thought, the girl lost all track of time and even William sitting next to her. The coach coming to a stop brought her out of her reverie.

Mrs. Tavington looked out the carriage window to see dozens of red coated soldiers milling about, some alone, some with family members. She saw quite a few parked carriages and wagons, as well as horses tied about. To her, it looked like they were one of the last to arrive.

William helped her out of the wagon as Ezra the slave dismounted the coach and hastily gathered the general's luggage. Tavington then walked to the back of the coach and unhitched his steed from it, checking the saddle and arranging the saddlebags on it.

For some reason, Melanie wanted to grab Will's hand. She walked to the other side of the carriage where he stood looking over his horse. Just as she reached out to him a private appeared.

"General Tavington, you're needed for a quick conference over there right away, sir," he informed.

"Thank you," the officer said as he handed the reins of his steed to the private. The young soldier immediately led the horse away to William's position within the battalion.

Melanie pulled her hand back as Will had dashed away and was out of her reach instantly. She let out a disappointed sigh.

Melanie watched the bustle that went on. Officers were gathered, conferring over maps and talking with guides. The baggage wagons were being loaded. Mostly, soldiers were bidding farewell to civilians.

Soon, she saw the Wilkins' making their way toward her. At the same time, Will returned as well. The two officers and neighbors greeted each other. Melanie and Bridget hugged.

"I'm not ready for this," Bridget confided, "I don't want to let him go."

Mrs. Tavington said nothing, simply shaking her head in agreement.

After the men greeted each other's wives, James spirited his wife away to meet some colleagues. Melanie and William were alone again. Moving over to stand near him, she took his hand. When he felt her hand in his, he smiled down at her, then raised her hand to his lips, brushing a light kiss on it.

"Will—"

"General, I need your signature on this," a young lieutenant called as he ran over to the couple, interrupting the girl.

"Certainly," Tavington replied. He quickly let his wife's hand slip out of his to take the clipboard that was handed to him. Mrs. Tavington watched as her husband quickly read over the paperwork, then signed it.

Melanie heard shouting across the way, and looked at her husband in as he turned to look that direction wanting to see what was going on. He took a few steps away from the woman as he shouted to another officer, checking on things. She looked down at the ground, disappointed, moving dirt about with the toe of her shoe, hands clasped behind her back.

When she looked up again, she saw that Will looked settled and stood quietly, looking over the men busily readying to leave. He turned his head to notice his wife looking demurely at him. The officer smiled and made his way back to her. "I'm sorry darling, you were saying—"

A quartermaster came running their direction, waving some papers in his hand. "General Tavington, we didn't get everything requested……."

His voice got lost as Melanie tuned it out of her mind. Another distraction for her husband. She sighed in disappointment. The young woman wanted William alone for just a moment to talk briefly before they parted.

Melanie looked on as the supply officer and her husband looked through the manifests and quickly made decisions about what to do. As they did, the young woman inched up quietly behind her husband and slipped her hand back into his free left hand hanging by his side. He instinctively held it as he listened to the quartermaster finish up.

As soon as the man hurried away, Will turned back to his wife. Timidly, she spoke again.

"William—"

Once again, they were interrupted by a small group of soldiers walking with purpose toward them. Tavington let go of his wife's hand and moved to meet the men, knowing they were in need of the commanding officer.

Melanie watched in passive frustration as her husband was besieged by men needing orders, confirmations, and various other last minute things from the General. She heaved a heavy sigh and resigned herself to the probability that she would not get another minute alone with him before the battalion moved out.

As she looked about, she noticed that most of the soldiers had assembled into ranks, ready to march. She saw that most of those lucky enough to have horses were already on them or mounting at that time. The woman saw the teamsters on their wagons, reins in hand, ready to roll. And lastly, she noticed the women and families standing off to the side, ready to wave goodbye as the men left.

Soon the men were gone and the area around them seemed deserted and quiet. Melanie looked about as William approached her again, expecting to see more soldiers needing his time.

The two finally met and an awkward silence passed between them. As Melanie gazed at him for what would be the last time for weeks or months, she thought him exceptionally handsome in his long red general's coat with gold braiding and his riding boots.

Tavington broke the silence. "Well, this is it. I'm the last one," he said looking back at all assembled and ready to leave, now waiting on him. Melanie looked about and noticed most of those men looking at the two of them during this intimate moment between the general and his wife.

"They're waiting on me to be able to leave," remarked the officer, "Seems I'm the commanding officer in charge of this division. I'm to lead the column."

"Just like you did in the cavalry," she added softly.

"Yes, nothing new," her husband agreed, "except it's a very large regiment."

This worried Melanie, but she kept it inside. It frightened her that Will would be leading the battalion in full general's uniform. The rebel snipers had standing orders to shoot highest ranking officers first. She knew that Will had known this for months.

"I'm proud of you," Mrs. Tavington stated timidly.

"Thank you, wife," he replied with genuine humility.

"I've seen to everything," the officer said, "Business will be fine. You have Mr. Andrews to help you."

Melanie smiled slightly and nodded her head.

"You will be safe there even after the hospital camp is gone," William stated, tying up the last loose ends with his wife. "The servants have strict orders to protect you."

Again, Mrs. Tavington nodded silently.

"Goodbye, darling. I'll write as soon as I have the chance," he said. "I'll miss you."

Melanie nodded, hiding emotion and tears.

With that, he took both her hands and pulled her body to his, where they hugged each other and kissed respectably and lightly each other's lips, then exchanged kisses on their cheeks. Both knew they were being watched by the entire column.

As he turned to leave her, she reached out and grabbed his hand. "William!"

Melanie pulled her husband back to him, his tall, slender frame now nearly touching hers again. Still holding one of his hands as they faced each other, she reached up and hooked her other hand around his neck. She pulled his body down slightly to where his face met hers, and kissed him deeply and passionately, not caring who saw it.

When their lips parted, still bent down slightly, Will put his forehead against her. His heart was moved inside to see tears in her eyes. "While I have been furious with you the last few days," she murmured, "I will forgive you in time."

"Thank you," he answered softly.

"And even though I am upset with you," she whispered, her voice breaking, "I will still miss you." He brushed his lips against hers in a soft, gentle kiss.

Remembering Alex Bordon dying in her arms while on duty, she spoke, tears spilling out of her eyes and down her cheeks. William brushed the tears from her face with his thumbs.

"I want you to come back," she sobbed, "I want you to come home to me."

"I will," he answered, then kissed her cheek.

He stood up straight, took his gloves from his belt and began to put them on. Melanie wiped her tears away as he made ready to leave.

"Duty beckons," he said bravely with a fond smile to his wife. With that, he turned and walked toward his horse.

Mrs. Tavington moved back into the crowd, Mrs. Wilkins soon finding her. The two women linked arms with each other, leaning on one another as they looked upon their officer husbands for the last time for awhile.

General Tavington mounted, and gave a nod to Major Wilkins, seated upon his mount next to the officer. William donned his three cornered hat and looked back at the regiment.

He called the order. "Gentleman! Forward march!"

Both William and James looked at their wives, touched their hats with their fingers, and gave a last nod to the women. The two officers were soon lost behind a sea of men on horses, and the infantry's raised muskets as the large column moved north on the road out of Winnsboro.


	65. Chapter 65 Friend And Confidant

Chapter 65 Friend And Confidant

The crowd of loved ones and well wishers at Winnsboro dispersed within moments of the last wagons disappearing down the road. Melanie Tavington and Bridget Wilkins stood together for a minute, watching the throng separate and go their different directions as these two women dried their own tears of just having let their husbands go away for who knew how long.

It was now early afternoon, and the clouds left from the storms last night had moved out. The sun was high overhead now and with it, so the Carolina summer heat had returned.

Bridget turned to Melanie with an idea. "Why don't we ride home together? We can catch up on things and have a good talk."

"That would be wonderful," Melanie said with a pang of relief in her voice.

The ladies decided to ride in the Wilkins' carriage. The slave Ezra would drive the empty Tavington coach home following closely behind. Both would stop near the lane of Melanie's plantation where the women could separate again and go on home to their respective farms.

Melanie found Bridget again after she'd set the plans with her driver, Ezra. The Irish woman was looking about the area for a privy which she finally spotted.

"Please excuse me for a moment," Bridget begged politely, "I must relieve myself. The baby seems to make that even worse."

"Certainly," Melanie replied as she watched her friend hurry off.

As she stood waiting for Mrs. Wilkins to return, her mind wandered back to moments ago. _She recalled waiting, trying to have just one minute with William and all the interruptions from his men and duty that pulled him away._

_While waiting on General Tavington to find a free moment from duty, Melanie looked about and saw soldiers bidding farewell to their wives and sweethearts. She spotted James and Bridget Wilkins within the bunch._

_Melanie remembered watching them from across the village green, their love for each other so apparent. Jim's hand rested on Bridget's swollen belly, caressing it, saying goodbye to his growing child within. His other arm was about his Irish wife, holding her close. And the two kissed deeply and lovingly, and had locked eyes with each other for what seemed like forever to Mrs. Tavington as she watched them. Their hearts had obviously learned to talk to each other through their eyes without either of them uttering a single word._

_The general's wife recollected feeling a bit of jealousy as she saw that, for she wished that William and her had that much understanding of each other. Deep longing had stirred with her as well as she watched them, wanting so much to have the absolute love that the other couple had. _

"I'm back," Bridget said, appearing again at Melanie's side. "Ready to leave?"

Mrs. Tavington nodded her head. The two ladies then moved into the coach and settled in for the ride back to their respective plantations.

The windows were open on the Wilkins' carriage, but there was no breeze to move through the vehicle. Both women found their fans which they waved over themselves trying to find some relief from the Carolina heat.

"I've been worried about you lately," Mrs. Wilkins stated, "You were so upset that last time we saw you. Have things been any better at home?"

"No," answered Melanie. "William beat me when I returned from your house….with his riding crop."

"Oh, no," Bridget lamented.

"Yes," confirmed Mrs. Tavington. "He was furious. He said I had defied him and had to be taught a lesson."

"I shouldn't have let you go home," Bridget regretted, "You said he had threatened to punish you."

"I couldn't stay at your home forever," Melanie sighed, "I had to go home sometime."

Mrs. Tavington took a breath and let it out. She glanced out the window for a moment, then looked back at her friend.

"Three weeks ago, William had closed a business deal with a new client," began Melanie, "and he came in from it very late and entirely drunk."

Bridget remembered hearing the gossip of this from her own servants, who had most likely heard it from the Tavington's servants. But she didn't let on that she knew anything. Besides, she had hoped to hear about what happened directly from her friend.

"William wanted relations," Melanie continued, flushing red a bit from starting to talk about such an intimate subject. "I refused him because he was so intoxicated."

Mrs. Wilkins listened quietly and with understanding to her friend. She was happy that Melanie trusted her enough to divulge happenings that were sometimes embarrassing.

"I ran from our bedroom to one of the guest rooms and locked him out, hoping that he would give up and pass out," Melanie said, recounting the details of that night. "He kicked the door down and dragged me back to our room."

Mrs. Tavington stopped telling the story and looked down at the floor. She sighed, not sure she wanted to go on talking about what happened.

Bridget reached across the coach to Melanie's seat and clasped her hand. "We don't have to speak of it if you don't want."

Melanie swallowed hard. "No….it's alright. I need to talk. I've…..I've felt so alone."

Mrs. Wilkins let go of her hand and gave her friend a reassuring look.

"William beat me that night, also, I suppose because I defied by refusing him relations," she said. "Then he forced me to submit."

"Will expects me to have relations whenever he pleases," Melanie stated, "or else I will be made to submit to him. He says it's his right as a husband, and as a wife….I have to."

"Oh, no," Bridget replied.

Both women were quiet, thinking about the unfortunate scene that night. Melanie timidly broke the silence.

"Does Jim make you submit?" Melanie asked slowly and cautiously.

There was quiet from Bridget. Mrs. Tavington felt that she had immediately overstepped her bounds.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked that."

"No, it's alright," answered Bridget. "He is the only husband you have had, and you've only just been married a few weeks, so of course you don't know anything else other than what your husband wants."

Mrs. Wilkins became quiet for a moment, wanting to answer Melanie's question in a discreet and tactful way.

Soon, she answered. "No…Jim doesn't make me submit. He never has," Bridget replied. "However, I do know when he really wants the relations and I may not feel like it, but I do it anyway because I love him and do want to please him. And as you said, I do know that it is his right as a husband."

Melanie nodded her head in agreement. She went on listening to Bridget, curious to know how their marriages differed.

"Lately, being pregnant, sometimes I am feeling sick or too tired to have relations," Bridget stated, "When that happens, Jim doesn't make me. He is very understanding."

"Things have been so strained between Will and I these last couple of weeks," said Mrs. Tavington. "At first, when I found out he was leaving for duty, I didn't want him to go. With everything that has transpired between us recently and the awful thing I found out about him, I found myself wanting him to leave."

"You didn't act like that this morning," Bridget commented with a sly smile. "Everyone saw you and William saying farewell. I thought you two looked happy."

"After wanting him to leave, I found myself feeling differently this morning," Melanie declared. "I was nervous. I was sorry to see him go."

Mrs. Tavington took a breath, then continued. "I wanted to be close to William in those last moments before he left, but as the commander, he kept getting interrupted. I just…..I just…I wanted to hold his hand one last time."

"Are you still sorry you married him?" Bridget asked.

"No…I'm not," Melanie answered honestly. "I am still upset about making the horse fall, my miscarriage…….but I will get over all that one day. I will forgive him in time."

"That's good," Mrs. Wilkins sighed, "I was afraid you were going to have to live together hating each other."

A moment of quiet passed between the two. Both looked out the window at the countryside, then back at each other.

"Do you love him?" asked Bridget.

Melanie immediately became tearful recalling her husband's unexpected declaration earlier that day. "No….I don't," Mrs. Tavington answered.

She went on, elaborating her feelings. "William surprised me this morning in the carriage. He told me that he loved me. It upset me."

Mrs. Wilkins was stunned. "Why? I would think that would make you happy?"

"Yes….I was …yet I was sad because I don't love him. I couldn't say the words back to him," Melanie lamented.

"It has left me so confused," the young woman continued. "That man makes my head and my heart spin insanely! I can't figure him out."

The young woman let out an exasperated sigh then went on. "When he is furious with me, he says the most hateful, hurtful things to me."

"Men sometimes do that when they are mad," Bridget said. "Perhaps he regrets what he said now."

Melanie shook her head. "I suppose so, I don't know."

"And then there are the times he acts so loving, like this morning," she added. "I guess I haven't figured out yet how to be a wife…how to be married."

"You will learn," Bridget stated.

"My parents loved each other so much," Melanie informed. "They had a loving marriage. I think I thought my marriage would be like that right away."

"You told me yourself that you hope to grow to love him," Bridget said. "As each of you grow to love each other, you will learn how to be married. It could be a loving marriage like your parents."

"And like yours," Melanie pointed out.

"Well, Jim and I are so much in love, but we are still getting used to marriage, as well," Bridget informed. "We have had our fights and disagreements. But it seems that Jim is maybe more even tempered than your William is."

"Oh….oh," Bridget cried, her hand dropping to her belly. "The kicks and movements are getting stronger."

Melanie reached across the carriage to touch her friend's pregnant belly. She felt the baby moving, then felt tears in her own eyes.

The young woman pulled back and reached for her handkerchief. She began to cry.

"Excuse me, Bridget, I'm sorry," she wept.

"Oh, Melanie."

"I'm a terrible friend! I'm so jealous because you're pregnant," Mrs. Tavington confessed. "Of that I am so ashamed."

"Melanie, no, you don't have to be ashamed," Bridget said. "I understand. I would feel the same if I had your path to walk."

"I just….I am truly happy for you," Melanie sobbed, "but I am so sad for myself."

Mrs. Wilkins reached forward and took her friend's hand again. She felt no ill will against Melanie and was glad she could confess how she felt.

"I'll never be able to feel a child move within me," she cried, "I'll never know what it feels like to give birth. The only thing I'll ever know of it is the sickness it caused early on, and the pain of the miscarriage. That is what I'll have to remember."

Bridget listened patiently without passing any judgment as her friend wept.

"When Will asked me to marry him, I was upset because I couldn't give him an heir," the woman sobbed, "and then I find out he has caused this state."

"You will forgive him, Melanie," Mrs. Wilkins said, "and the two of you will get through it. You will find an understanding. Major Bordon treated you horribly at first, then you forgave him,then the two of you began to understand each other, then you fell in love."

"Yes," Melanie sniffed. She took a deep breath, dried her tears, and settled back into the carriage seat. She stayed quiet for a moment, submerged in memory and thought.

"You still miss Alex, don't you," asked Bridget.

"Yes, very much," Melanie replied. "It hurts less with each day that goes by. I know I will never entirely get over it. I just hope to be happy again."

"You will, I'm sure of it," Bridget says, smiling at her friend.

The carriage rolled on along the road back to the Wilkins and Tavington plantations. Both women took a break from talking and rested back on their respective seats.

After awhile, Melanie's head began to ache, then spin and feel dizzy. After a moment of that, she then felt like she couldn't breathe. The young woman felt flushed with heat. She leaned forward, beginning to feel sick to her stomach.

Bridget sat up straight, alarmed at how suddenly her friend became sick and how pale she was. She knocked frantically on the ceiling of the coach.

"Samuel, stop the carriage please," she yelled. "Mrs. Tavington is sick!"

In an instant both vehicles pulled off the road. Melanie quickly stepped out of the carriage and fell on her knees to the ground in the grass. She bent over forward and began to throw up.

Soon at her side were Mrs. Wilkins, and the slaves Samuel and Ezra. Bridget wet her handkerchief from the wagon's canteen and dabbed Melanie's face with the cool liquid when she had finished vomiting.

"I'm sorry," Mrs. Tavington said, "It's this heat. I've lived in South Carolina my whole life and don't remember a summer_ this_ hot."

The two slaves helped Melanie up and back into the carriage. Bridget made her friend lie down across the coach seat to rest.

As Mrs. Tavington rested, she also thought about how bad the mosquitoes had been this summer and last, as well. It was always in the back of her mind remembering people from her youth who had suffered Malaria or Yellow fever and died. She recalled how sick Colonel Tarleton had become from Malaria last fall; he nearly died. Melanie had become sick a few days in the heat, but she hoped she would never contract either of those mosquito borne diseases.

By early evening, the two carriages arrived near their plantations. The two friends hugged each other and vowed to spend a lot of time together while their husbands were away. And with that, each woman got into their respective carriage and made their way onto their own farms.


	66. Chapter 66 Disbelief, Yet Hope

**Author's note: Okay--I don't know what possessed me last week but I wrote so much! Maybe extra time possessed me. Anyway, thanks again for reading, you are great! Enjoy this chapter because there may not be another one for a week or so. I am embarking on one of those weeks where I have something going on every night, including the weekend, so don't may not have much free time to write another chapter again until into next week.**

**Thanks**

**JScorpio**

Chapter 66 Disbelief, Yet Hope

Mid September, 1781………………..

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_20 August 1781_

_Dearest Melanie,_

_This is just a quick note to you. We are in North Carolina now. I've been informed of late that we will be moving toVirginia. I cannot tell you the location yet. Things here are busy—the duties of a staff General are…well…tedious. Never a moment's rest. Always someone needing a signature or to speak to me of something. So many strategy meetings. I curse my injured body and wish I would not have been so severely hurt last winter. I would much rather be leading the cavalry on to the field and fighting then attending to this administrative work. However, I try to remember how you spoke to me of this last Spring. I always keep in my mind you asking me if I wanted to have some part in a British victory or nothing at all. So, this is my contribution and I hope that what I do here, my command of men, is significant and makes a difference._

_How is the plantation doing? I trust Mr. Andrews is doing a fine job as usual. After working with him, Mr. Barnes, and the rest of the hired hands, I can see why your father hired all of them and trusted them so thoroughly. They are fine indeed and truly have the situation in hand._

_How is Mrs. Wilkins? I get what news I can of her from her esteemed husband. He worries about her and is sorry that he won't be there when his child is born. He is still convinced that he is having a son. Jim grows increasingly excited and anxious to be a father as the day of birth nears._

_As for James Wilkins the officer, he has proven himself again and again on the field, whether battle or skirmish. He thinks of his fellow soldiers and is busy helping them even while defending his own person! He is also the ever astute business man, and I am learning things from him that may help our business. I'm also learning much of wine making and beer brewing. Not to worry, darling, I am not planning on starting that to rival the Wilkins' operation. I will stick to the mills as that is what I know best!_

_It is hard to sleep again on a bedroll or cot—depending on where we are for how long. I believe I became quite spoiled in our comfortable bed and house. I miss having you, my darling, next to me in our bed. I am always aware that the last few days before we parted, that we were not on the best of terms. But I will always remember the look on your face and your eyes the morning I left, so I think you may be missing me right now. I hope you are. I used to love the thrill of battle. But now I want the damned thing to end soon so that I may rejoin you, my sweet wife. _

_Fondest love,_

_Your William_

Mrs. Tavington smiled as she refolded the letter from Will and tucked it back into the pocket of her skirt. The letter arrived late yesterday—it was a month old. She surmised that Will and the men had probably already moved into Virginia by now. The woman hoped she would get another letter from him soon.

She came out of the shade, picked up her basket as she did and walked toward the next section or grapes. The young woman was helping cut grapes today to monitor the progress they were making. She liked trying to help out as she felt it kept her more in touch with the different areas of the plantation and how it all was going.

It wasn't more than a few minutes that a headache came on. Melanie stopped for a moment to catch her breath and wipe her brow. The heat from the summer had still not subsided and this was the hottest September Mrs. Tavington could remember. She longed for a breeze to kick up and cool the plantation.

She decided that she could work through the ache of her head and that she'd ask the next person going to the house to bring her back some Ward's. But after a few more moments of working, the pounding in her head turned to vertigo. She found it even more hard to breathe.

Henry, one of the hired hands working near the mistress, notice that she had gone pale suddenly. He sat his basket of grapes down and walked toward Melanie.

"Mrs. Tavington, are you feeling alright?" he asked in obvious worry.

"No….this heat is unbearable," she replied. "I'm trying to work through it."

The woman closed her eyes and took a couple of large breaths, hoping the air in her lungs would help her feel better. But instead, she began to feel nauseous. The girl dropped to her knees and threw up. When she was done, she sat backwards on her knees, trying to calm herself down. She thought she would feel better after she had vomited, which often happened.

The slaves Ezra and Dinah came running when they saw the mistress on her knees, all concerned for her. Melanie forced a smile up at the three surrounding her, asking them to help her up. But when she stood, she still felt dizzy.

Obviously the heat was getting to her, and afraid of a heat stroke, Henry sent her to the house. It didn't take much for her to agree with him. Melanie thought she would take a break and rest in the cool house and she could help again later. She refused the arm of Ezra to escort her to the house, telling them she felt she could make it.

Dinah and Ezra went back to work on the grapes. Henry watched Mrs. Tavington as she walked toward the house, and so far she was doing well. Then he noticed that she started to weave. When he noticed this, he started walking toward her, knowing that she needed help.

As Melanie weaved, she felt like she was walking sideways, then uphill. She tried to tell herself to take deep breaths, but breathing was hard. Then she told herself to stop, but yet her body kept going, just wanting to make it back to the house quickly. Then she lost her sense of direction and walked in two small circles.

Melanie looked around, feeling disoriented. She tried to spot the house but felt her vision starting to blur. Then everything went black.

Henry saw her faint onto the grass and took off at a run. He got to her, yelled her name and tried to get her to revive but the woman was out cold. He picked her body up and carried her toward the house, shouting trying to get anyone within earshot's attention.

Diedre and Mrs. Sloane came onto the veranda as the farmhand carried the unconscious woman in. Diedre ran for a basin of cold water as Mrs. Sloane called for Jonas, the young slave.

"Jonas," she instructed, "go fetch Mrs. Wilkins and ask her if she might come and sit with Mrs. Tavington, if she feels up to it."

With that, the spry little slave was off, running across the field as fast as his feet would carry him.

After laying the Tavington woman down in her bed, Henry hurried out to the handful of tents that was left of the dispersed hospital. He knew there was at least one surgeon left.

Within moments, Dr. Mills entered the house with an apothecary bag. Diedre was wiping Mrs. Tavington down with cool water.

"What happened," he asked.

"The heat has been getting to her this season," Mrs. Sloane stated, having heard the unconscious woman complain more than once of it. "She fainted on her way back to the house."

The man found a vial of Hartshorn in his bag. The doctor passed it under the young mistress' nose. It elicited a couple of moans from the woman, but she did not revive.

"Alright, I'll stay with her for awhile," assured Dr. Mills. "I'll try the smelling salts here every half hour until she revives. Wipe her down to keep her cool every so often."

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Two hours later, Mrs. Wilkins had arrived and was told in detail what had happened. Between Bridget and the Tavington servants, the doctor was filled in on Melanie's recent state of health.

Bridget immediately sat down next to her friend, worried for her. The doctor tried the smelling salts again and this time, Melanie opened her eyes.

The plantation mistress looked about, recognizing her bedroom but not sure what had happened. She looked at her friend in confusion.

"Bridget," she whispered.

"Yes…I'm here," Mrs. Wilkins answered. "Do you remember anything?"

"I was working in the grapes," replied Melanie. "What happened?"

The doctor spoke up. "Your farm hand says that you became ill, then you tried to make it to the house and fainted along the way. We've had a hell of a time trying to revive you."

"I want to talk to you alone," Melanie said. "Please send everyone out."

All gathered left the room, and Doctor Mills and Melanie were now alone. The woman was worried about herself, fearing the worst. She looked up at the doctor with fright in her eyes.

"Is it Malaria?", she asked, worried.

"I am not sure yet, Mrs. Tavington," he stated. "You've been out for so long. I haven't had a chance for a thorough examination, plus I needed to talk with you, as well."

She discussed all her symptoms with the doctor, and how the horrible heat seemed to make things worse. Then he went on to ask more questions.

"I was informed that you had a miscarriage last year," he stated.

"Yes…in the winter…I was four months along," she recounted. "I fell from a horse. The doctor and midwife that attended me at the fort agreed that it was bad. That I'd never be able to conceive again."

"I see," he acknowledged. "And have you been able to have your monthlies since the miscarriage?"

"Yes, they returned," answered .

"Have they been regular?"

"No…irregular."

"How often? Are they coming once a month?" Mills questioned.

Melanie thought about it, trying to remember. "Yes, they come once a month but are irregular in when they start and stop."

"And when was the last monthly you had, even if irregular?" He looked intently at his patient.

Once again, the young woman tried to recall. "It was at the beginning of June. I thought nothing of not having them because after the miscarriage, the doctor said that I may have trouble with my monthlies."

"So you haven't had one since June," he confirmed, watching Melanie nod in answer.

"Alright, let me examine you a little further," he stated. With that, he pulled Melanie's shift skirt up over her middle, taking care to pull the blanket up over her pubic area to shield it. The man pressed on and palpated her abdomen, as well as watched her breathing.

When he was done, he sat down next to the bed in the chair vacated by Bridget. He shared his findings with the young woman.

"Mrs. Tavington, I am from Maryland and joined this army to help His Majesty by repairing his soldiers," he informed. "My wife is a midwife back at home. As a doctor for the village there, I often had occasion to accompany my wife on her visits to women bearing children. I have helped with more than one difficult birth and have learned quite a bit from my wife."

He took a breath, then continued. Melanie listened quietly. "No, Mrs. Tavington, you thankfully have not contracted Malaria."

"Thank God," she replied, closing her eyes.

"You're pregnant," he declared. "You're three months along considering the absence of your flux for as long as that. Plus in palpating your abdomen, it is slightly rounded as should be for three months, and is firm, which is another sign. Let's see, this is the middle of September. You should deliver in March."

Mrs. Tavington was aghast, not believing her ears. She was unable to speak for a moment.

"But they told me I couldn't have any more children," she said, shaking her head still in disbelief.

"And maybe at the time that was true and thought so bad as that was to be the case," the doctor stated. "But the human body is truly miraculous. I have seen men sometimes survive what were considered devastating, life threatening injuries. And I have seen miracles. The body is sometimes very resilient. My medical opinion is that maybe due to your young age, that your female organs within repaired themselves."

Mrs. Tavington lay on her bed, still dumfounded. She continued to listen to the doctor.

"When you were pregnant before, did you have illness early on?"

"Yes," she answered.

"And was it the same or similar to what you have been experiencing periodically these last few weeks," he asked.

"Yes," she answered, a smile crossing her face. She never even made the connection that she could possibly be having pregnancy sickness because she had been told, and therefore assumed that she would not conceive again.

"But a word of caution," Doctor Mills warned, "You must be careful and rest. Since you have had one bad miscarriage, you run a higher risk of having one again. Please, no more working on the farm. You are to rest as much as possible during this pregnancy to have a chance to carry the baby to term. Take special care until the child is born."

"Congratulations, Mrs. Tavington," the doctor said. With that, he opened the bedroom door, allowing Mrs. Sloane and Mrs. Wilkins to enter.

"Please, you tell them," Melanie requested, "they will only believe it to hear it from a doctor."

"What? What is it?" asked a concerned Bridget.

"Your friend here is with child. Three months," he proclaimed. "In March, the Tavington family will increase in size."

With that, the doctor gave instructions that the woman was to rest and not work on the farm. Then bid farewell, and he left.

Bridget had a huge smile on her face. "Oh Melanie! All that pain you felt last winter and all the tears you had shed over this. God saw your despair and gave you a miracle!"

"What do you think the General will think? Will he be excited? Does he want to be a father," asked a jubilant Bridget.

"I…I don't know. I think he will be as stunned as I am," Melanie said, her own voice still conveying disbelief.

"You must write him right away!"

Mrs. Tavington suddenly became scared, and cautious. She recalled the doctor warning her that she was at a higher risk not to carry to term. She made a quick decision.

Melanie grabbed for her friend's hand. "Please, Bridget, don't tell Jim in your letters, yet. Because I am sure William would want to tell him. But also, I want to get past the four month stage, when I had the miscarriage before I even tell William. I don't want to get his hopes up, then have to inform him that I lost the baby."

"Alright, I will not write of it until you tell me I can," Bridget promised.

Mrs. Tavington settled back into her pillow, cautiously happy. Bridget kissed her forehead and bid goodbye so that her friend could get some rest.

Melanie's hand went to her belly and began to caress it. And though she was happy, she began to cry in joy, thoroughly overcome with emotion.

"Oh, little one," she sobbed, "I am so glad that you are inside me. I have desired a child. I want you so badly! I can't wait for you to be born!"

Through her tears, she looked out her open bedroom window at the bright sky and prayed, thanking God.

"Lord, please take care of me and this baby. Please keep us safe. I want this child to be born!"

"Thank you," she wept. "Thank you for another chance!"


	67. Chapter 67 Encamped At Yorktown

Chapter 67 Encamped at Yorktown

_October 1, 1781………………._

His Majesty's army had taken over the Virginia and Chesapeake Bay peninsula town of Yorktown in September. They encamped there making the quiet village their temporary home. The men were well settled into camp life by now, enjoying the beautiful high views over the York River, a wide body of water, from the bluff on which the town stood. They also were relieved to finally have exchanged the stifling Carolina heat for cool breezes off the river and bay.

Lieutenant Colonel Tarleton had just received word that his legion would cross the river tomorrow with orders to hold Gloucester Point on the opposite side of the river. Tonight, Tarleton and two of his commanders from the cavalry, Major Wilkins and Captain Wentworth, were enjoying a card game with General Tavington. This would be Will's last game with them for awhile, and he was making the most of the company.

"What intelligence do you hear about our syphilis infected militia colonel," Tavington asked Jim Wilkins.

"Benjamin Martin," he answered with a sigh and nod of his head, "Word is his wife had their child—a girl. She showed no signs of the disease."

Jim studied his hand of cards for the next play. Choosing a card, he put it on the table and continued speaking. "His wife sold his property, Freshwater Plantation, which I heard that you burnt to the ground, to my younger sister and her husband. The new Mrs. Martin told my sister that they didn't need two country plantations and a mansion in Charles Towne."

Wilkins picked a card up and arranged it within the hand he held. "The Martins are going to make their home on her land that she inherited from John Selton, her late husband. They are still working on rebuilding that fine plantation house of her that we burned last year."

"How is the ghost," William queried, "His actions?"

"My source tells me he is between lucidity and insanity," replied Wilkins. "His men have figured out what is wrong with him, and when he gives them crazy orders, they regularly disobey them to keep order and fighting—almost as if they are running the outfit themselves without an officer in charge. Word is that he doesn't usually remember the orders he gives them anyway."

Jim took a drink of his wine, then went on. "Colonel Burwell offered him an honorable discharge and urged him to take it, but Martin refused. Burwell didn't push the matter because he is short on men and needs the crazy son of a bitch in there fighting because he will take the damned fool risks that the others wouldn't touch!"

Banastre entered the conversation. "Tav, so what do _you_ think of Colonel Burwell?" he interjected the question while busily looking at his cards. "He did ra—"

Tarleton didn't even realize what he was saying—it just flowed out of his mouth. The instant he thought about it, he stopped himself short and regretted bringing it up.

"Rape my wife?" William asked, finishing Ban's interrupted spontaneous words. "It was in retaliation for when all of us had our fun in Charles Towne with his widow sister. He is a traitor and a rebel swine like the rest of them."

The other three men suddenly became quiet, feeling awkward that the subject had been brought up. Tavington played his next card and broke the silence. "How do _I_ feel about Burwell's rape of Melanie? I felt badly when I found out, that she was a casualty of our actions, and there was nothing that we could do about it."

General Tavington took a sip of wine, then went on. "She wasn't my wife at the time, she was Bordon's mistress. And Alex was livid over the fact that the yankee colonel had violated his woman. Bordon would have torn the man apart and gotten himself killed in the process if I hadn't stopped him, making me lose a damned fine adjutant!"

"Ah….he died anyway at the hand of a rebel," Wentworth chimed in with a mournful tone.

"Yes, God rest his soul," Tavington said.

With that, Captain Wentworth disappeared from the tent for a moment. He reappeared bearing some ale for the men. As the dark brown liquid was poured about, the conversation continued.

"Ban, what's this I hear about you riding your horse into someone's mansion?" he asked.

"Guilty as charged," Tarleton answered. "It can be no worse than you riding your steed into the Lord's house!"

"That church in Pembroke held a group of traitorous rebels," he defended in mock jest.

"And so were these people," replied Banastre.

"Have you no regard for personal property?" Tavington jokingly asked.

"And how many homes have you burnt?" replied Tarleton sarcastically.

"I've lost count," Will stated, looking at his cards.

"So General, your views have changed now that you are one of those wealthy plantation owners living in one of those beautiful mansions, hmmm?" Ban mused.

"Just tell me about your little romp in the house," Tavington urged.

"It was indeed a very large, beautiful home on the James River outside of Williamsburg," began Banastre. " I think it the finest house I've seen so far. Carter's Grove, I believe it was called."

"The owner was a rebel," Ban continued. "I asked kindly for them to do their duty and house His Majesty's soldiers for the evening. They refused. I was tired and not in the mood to deal with them, so we confined them to the study of their house and made ourselves at home."

The ginger haired cavalry commander took a drink of his ale, then went on. "I sent a couple of the men toward town to reconnoiter while the other men slept. I took the pretty little servant from the study, telling the family that I needed to take her outside for questioning."

A sly smile crossed Ban's face as his eyes lit up mischievously. "I did interrogate her—very deeply—with my yard!"

Huge hoots of laughter went up from the quartet of officers. Colonel Tarleton went on recounting the events of that evening. "I found out the she was a secret loyalist. Needless to say, she and I were finishing up our fun under a vast oak tree when my two ensigns rode in frantically, shouting that rebels were headed in our direction."

The leader of the legion looked at the cards played on the table, then looked at his hand. He continued his story after choosing his card and laying it down. "With little time, I left the servant, mounted my horse in haste and rode into the house. I didn't have time to dismount again and get the men, so I rode my horse up the stairway and whacked the banister a few times to make enough noise to rouse the men awake. The men followed me out of the house with Private Smithers informing me that I'd left some nasty chop marks in the wooden stair rail."

"The owner couldn't have been too happy about that souvenir," Tavington quipped.

"No. He chased us down the lane yelling something at us," Ban laughed. "We were too busy hoofing it out of there to care!"

Major Wilkins scooped up the cards and shuffled them. He dealt the cards as General Tavington changed the subject of conversation. "Who was that pretty little bird I saw you with last night?" he asked Banastre.

"Oh, a prisoner."

William raised his eyebrows. "She looked very young."

"She was—fifteen," he answered. "The girl was a barmaid in the ordinary we raided over in Stockdale. She recognized that we were dragoons and asked if I was Bloody Ban."

The youthful colonel took a swig of his ale. "She then begged me to take her prisoner. I refused and told her to run home. She chased us when we left, pleading with me to go with us."

"She started yelling insults," Ban continued. He stood at the table and feigned being the girl. "King George is a woman! Lord Cornwallis wears dresses! Trying to get us to arrest her. She was making a scene, rousing more townspeople and I was afraid we'd soon be outnumbered."

Banastre checked his cards, chose one and played it. "I had a headache as it was and her caterwauling got on my nerves very quickly. I soon realized that the only way to shut her up was to take her prisoner. My intention was to let her go, send her back home when we reached camp."

Tarleton took a drink of his ale, and continued. "I soon found out_ her_ intentions when I unbound her. She slid her hands into my breeches saying that she wanted to be deflowered by the infamous Banastre Tarleton."

Wentworth smiled impishly. "So what did you do to your innocent little guest?"

"I mounted her, spoilt her, then _she rode me_ like a stallion!" exclaimed Ban. "Suffice it to say that she seemed happy, albeit a bit sore, when she left for home this morning."

"Ah, the last night here in Yorktown for the three of you tonight," William said to his fellow officers. "I don't have to ask how Colonel Tarleton will be spending his night. But what of you, young Captain Wentworth? How are you spending your last night here?"

"With General O'Hara's mistress," he simply replied, unfazed.

The three other officers stopped looking at their cards and looked at the captain, stunned and wide eyed. He smiled roguishly at the others.

"_She_ approached _me_," confessed Wentworth. "So I set up an assignation with her for tonight."

"What happened to the Quartermaster's wife?" William asked. It had been a little kept secret in the encampment that up until a couple of weeks ago, Wentworth had been enjoying time in the bed of the supply officer's wife, a woman older than the captain, and very beautiful.

Banastre laughed. "The quartermaster caught the two of them together," he proclaimed. "Seems he didn't like our Wentworth rogering his wife regularly, so he sent her home to Boston."

"Yes," the young captain said with a sigh. "It's too bad because she was an appreciative piece of ass."

"Yes and ever since that, he refuses to fill any supply requisitions from me or Wenty here," Tarleton stated. "Wentworth here for the obvious reasons, and me because he thinks I am a libertine."

"You _are_ a libertine!" Wilkins laughed.

"Yes, but that's no reason to deny the dragoon commander supplies," Tarleton smirked.

"He will only accept orders from myself or Lieutenant Kidwell," Wilkins confirmed to Tavington.

"Yes," Wentworth agreed. "But what the quartermaster doesn't know is that Kidwell fucked the man's younger sister, who is his ward. Broke her cherry, he did."

"And afterwards," Tarleton interjected, "Young Kidwell was quoted as saying, 'I could get used to this!' Unfortunately for the lieutenant, the sister was sent home with the supply officer's wife!"

The men were nearly done with their cards when three women entered the tent and walked to Colonel Tarleton. They immediately began to paw on the man.

"Colonel, we're tired of waiting!" one of the tarts cried.

"Yes, hurry up!" the second one urged.

"You promised!" the third girl reminded.

"I'll be right there, ladies," he pacified. "We're just about finished."

The men threw in the cards as the three harlots left the tent.

"Good Lord, Colonel Tarleton, are you going to use up every single woman in this camp before the rest of us get to them?" exclaimed Captain Wentworth.

"No, these girls are from the village," Banastre explained.

"Christ, Ban!," William swore. "I'll wager that there are a dozen red haired by blows toddling about the colonies!"

"Hear hear!" Wilkins cried with a grin.

Banastre stood to leave, paying out the money he'd lost to the others. "Gentleman, I have butchered more men and lain with more women than any other soldier in the King's army!"

"I'd say that's a fair assessment," Tavington declared with a lopsided smile.

The card party broke up and as the men moved to leave the tent, Banastre was the first to the door. He turned and looked back at his fellow officers. "Tav—I'll see you soon hopefully. It's been an honor commanding beside you." Then he turned to the other two officers. "Wenty, Wilky, I'll see you two gents early in the morning!"

~/~

A few minutes later, James Wilkins and William Tavington were walking along the path between tents, meandering toward their respective quarters. As they moved along, a raven haired beauty stepped out of the shadows and moved stalked straight to the tall Major Wilkins.

"Would you like some company this evening?" she asked demurely.

"No thank you," he deferred, thinking of Bridget. "I've got work to get done."

"Perhaps just a few moments," she urged, "maybe to take your mind off of more serious matters?"

The girl put her hands on Jim's chest, looking seductively up at him. Wilkins could tell she didn't want to be refused.

A storm brewed within him. He missed Bridget terribly and hadn't seen her in two and a half months. The man had also been faithful to her, but fought with his own manly urges which needed to be satisfied.

Tavington could tell that his fellow officer and neighbor from South Carolina was torn. William decided to help Wilkins get rid of the woman, or allow her into his bed.

"Ah, go ahead, Wilkins," he urged. "The men here don't care. No one's going to tell your wife."

Wilkins looked questioningly at his friend, as if he needed permission. William went on. "Be assured that I won't tell Melanie," he promised in a sincere, yet tired voice. "Bridget will not find out."

Wilkins relented. The trollop smiled up at him and took his hand. "Good evening, General," Jim said as the strumpet began to pull him away.

"Yes, good night," Will called back. He smiled, then laughed to himself, still in disbelief that the gentleman Wilkins had consented to go with a whore. After a few steps, he stopped stock still in his tracks. He forgot to tell Jim that he'd received a letter from home, and wanted to share with him part of Melanie's words. Both of the men routinely shared news from home with each other, feeling good just to hear something from their homesteads.

The officer doubled back quickly, knowing he needed to find his friend tonight because he would be gone in the morning. As he turned the corner near a small building where the doxy had confronted the men, he stopped almost as quickly. He saw Jim Wilkins, back against the wall of the building, head back and eyes closed. The whore was on her knees in front of the officer, already swallowing the major's manhood.

"Whew! That was fast," Tavington muttered under his breath to himself. He stepped back around the corner of the barn and left the couple to their pleasure.

As Will walked along toward his tent, a pretty young blonde ran out from another path between the tents and bumped right into the officer.

"Oh, I'm sorry sir," she said. "I should be more careful."

"It's quite alright, Miss-?" he replied, wanting the girl's name.

"Oh, Sarah," she answered, still flustered. She did not have a British accent, so he knew she was a colonial woman. "Just Sarah."

The girl curtsied. "Good night General."

He nodded his head in turn, then walked on. After a few steps, he turned on his heel and went back to find the woman strolling away slowly.

"Uh…Miss Sarah…," he called to her.

The pretty girl looked back at him.

Tavington asked, "Are you free this evening?"

~/~

"Oh…Oh General!" Sarah cooed as William slammed his hardness into her body from behind. The man was frankly admiring the view of her curvy hips and bottom from behind her, the girl on her hand and knees receiving him.

Tavington gripped her hips tightly to steady her as he continued pounding away. After a few more minutes of him plumbing away inside her, she began purring with pleasure.

"You're going to make me come, General," she whimpered breathily.

"Do try to control yourself, my dear," Will urged.

"I can't! Your cock is so large," she cooed in clear pleasure.

William chuckled as he continued ramming himself into the whore. In only a few more strokes, she was crying out as she came. Tavington held himself back, preferring to delay his orgasm in favor of another position.

After that, Will reclined on his back on his cot. He took Sarah's hand. "Straddle me," he requested.

The girl climbed across the supine officer with his hand helping to steady her. She positioned herself, then sank down slowly on his still hard erection. She let out a sigh and closed her eyes as his manhood filled her completely.

After she'd mounted him and felt the initial pleasure of having him inside her again, she stayed still, relishing the feeling. Tavington gazed up at the blonde, wavy haired whore, only now realizing her features were very similar to Melanie's.

He took a deep breath, then let it out. "I know your name is Sarah, but for a few moments, I'm going to call you 'Melanie'."

"Who's that, sir," she asked quietly, cautiously.

"My wife."

"Obviously," she answered softly, knowing inside that was how he would answer. "You must miss her."

William sighed and looked up at the white canvas ceiling of the tent. "Very much so," he answered, as if admitting a secret.

The general closed his eyes as the trollop began to ride him. As she did, in his mind he pictured Melanie's curvy body on top of his, moving atop him. He imagined running his hands up and down her body, feeling the softness of it. Will could hear in his mind, his wife moaning in pleasure as she came. Just recalling the feel of her body, her whimpers of satisfaction, her head thrown back in orgasm, was too much for Tavington. He could no longer hold himself back.

"Oh…..Melanie!...Oh, darling," he cried aloud as he came.

Sarah came again, as well, watching the officer as he did, his eyes closed and knowing he was longing for his wife. She collapsed on top of him, her body close to his, feeling his muscular chest as it rose and fell with each breath.

After a few moments, Tavington rolled her off of him and onto the cot, where she curled up under the covers. William got up from the bed and slipped his pants on, then walked to his desk where he sat down. He pulled the letter he'd received from Melanie today and read it yet again.

_22__nd__ September 1781_

_Dear Will,_

_I just received a letter from you from August. How I wish the post moved more quickly. I long to hear some kind of word from you every day for I miss you and worry for you so._

_You should see the grapes! I believe they are the largest size we have had in years, and more than we have ever had. The Wilkins' winery steward has already had enough to make a test batch of wine. He was very pleased with it. I sampled it at the Wilkins' the other evening and it was so very sweet. _

_Bridget's belly continues to grow. She is convinced, as she says Jim is, that the baby is a boy. I can't believe that she is only six weeks away from giving birth. I will be with her at the birth and have promised to help attend her and the baby when she is lying in. What a miracle babies are. Oh, William, life if full of miracles._

_Darling, so much happens here at home, just so much to tell you about. I can't seem to say everything I want to say in our letters. I just…I wish you were here. I miss you so much!_

_William, a lot has happened and I have done some thinking since you have left. I realize that I can't blame you forever for Pembroke, the horse falling, my miscarriage. I have forgiven you. I know…if you were here, you would remind me of what I always say, that my brother was a Priest and would want me to forgive. Yes, William, that is part of it. But, I forgive you because I want to. I have found peace. And I am happy. There is so much in life for me to be happy about! _

_Darling I miss you so much. Please be careful. Please come home to me._

_Truly,Deeply,_

_Your Melanie_

Will smiled as he folded the letter. He sat back in the chair, thinking about Melanie's letter. He recalled how strained things had been with them for days before he'd left. Then he remembered how sweet—and bittersweet—things had been between them on the morning he departed. Tavington was relieved and happy that his wife saw fit to forgive him. But he could not get over how happy she seemed now. Even though he read and could tell that she missed him, she had found some happiness. William was very glad and pleased that his wife had seemed to find joy again in life.

General Tavington put the letter down on his desk. He stood and stretched, yawning as he did. As he turned, he saw the whore in his cot, having forgotten that she was there after having lost himself in his wife's letter. William sighed, feeling a bit of guilt as he looked at the blonde harlot in his bed. Although the trollop could slake his manly needs temporarily, she was no substitute for his beautiful wife, whom had captured his heart. Will loved Melanie and wanted terribly to hold her again, and to feel her arms around him.

The general picked up some sovereigns from his desk. He crossed the ground to his cot and shook the snoozing strumpet awake. She took the coins from the officer, dressed quickly at his request and soon left the tent. When she was gone, William Tavington crawled back under the covers of his cot, preferring to spend the night alone. He closed his eyes, thinking of Melanie, hoping to have a very sweet dream about her.

/~/~

**Author's note:**** Banastre Tarleton utters a line in this chapter, "I have butchered more men and lain with more women than any other soldier…",. Supposedly, Horace Walpole said that Tarleton told him this. And Banastre was a known braggart, and it is phrased in the style that Tarleton would have used or spoken with. In my opinion, I think that he probably did brag of this at one time or another.**

**Carter's Grove Plantation incident: Carter's Grove Plantation on the James River just outside of Williamsburg is a spectacular, beautiful home. I visited it on vacation in 1995 when it was still open to the public. (it was purchased in the last few years by an American "dot com" millionaire and is now a private home again.) When I was there, they did tell the story of Tarleton riding his horse into the house and up the stairway. There are slash marks in the wooden banister that they let us look at and some appeared to have silver slivers deeply imbedded. The steps and banister are both made of teak—a very hard, dense wood. I certainly thought they looked like sword marks—because of how long and deep they are. I don't think cutting the banister with a typical knife would do this—it had to be a strong, hard blade brought down with a lot of force on that teak wood. Anyway, supposedly it is a legend that Tarleton did this and not proven. It is said that he did it for: **

**-Out of anger and spite because the family refused to billet his men there for the night and gave the tired officer resistance**

**-He was drunk and did it for fun**

**-He rushed into the house and roused the men awake the best way he could. **

**Personally, I think this is totally within Ban's character to have done something as outlandish and brash as this and that he probably did do it. I think it was the last reason above—to awaken his men. To me, the slashes in the banister were very random and looked like they were scattered about, as if done in haste and not an act of vandalism.**


	68. Chapter 68 Disgrace

Chapter 68 Disgrace

_Yorktown, October 18, 1781…_

Lord Cornwallis' head pounded with every round of artillery that landed on the British side of the lines. His staff generals stood about him in the dining room of the Moore's house in Yorktown. The reinforcements promised by Clinton had not arrived yet and the Colonial rebels were getting closer. For days they had rushed the lines, captured redoubts, and played on the nerves of the redcoats. This morning, The Lord General had been informed that the British were in a desperate position, and that all the ammunition was exhausted.

General Tavington stood straight and tall in the dining room amongst the generals, but a look of exhaustion was in his eyes and on his face. He stayed quiet in the tense silence, hoping that Earl Cornwallis secretly had another card to play; that all wasn't finished yet.

Cornwallis got up from the table and made another trip over to the window. He looked out and surveyed the village and as much of the battlefield as he could see from there. Then he looked at his pocket watch.

"It's 9 o'clock in the morning," he noted blandly. The Earl then made his way back over to the table and sat back down.

After another moment, he called Captain Nixon, a low ranking aide-de-camp over to him and whispered something in his ear. The officer bowed his head swiftly and left the room.

Cornwallis' head dropped and the man slumped forward over the table a little, then buried his face in his hands.

Tavington's mouth dropped open, but he closed it as soon as he realized he was gaping at the Earl. He felt his heart drop and couldn't believe this was happening. The officer then ran outside onto the sidewalk, where the cannon fire from the enemy seemed particularly loud. Will looked over to his right and saw a smartly dressed drummer boy walking up to the top of a nearby parapet on the British breastwork. Captain Nixon followed closely behind.

William watched in disappointment as the little drummer assumed his position atop the hill and began to beat a parley that he could barely hear. Then he saw Captain Nixon waving a white handkerchief in slow, sweeping motions. It was a surrender; the British could fight no more.

General Tavington felt tears start to sting his eyes as he watched the scene with a sunken heart. Suddenly all the years he'd been in the colonies and all the battles he had fought passed through his mind at lightning speed. He'd risked life and limb, and been seriously injured, all for defeat.

In a moment, he remembered himself. _You are an officer, William—a General! Be proud. Don't show those bloody rebels your disappointment._ With that, he took a deep breath, pulled his shoulders back and raised his head. It was then that he decided that whatever would become of him as an officer during this surrender, that he would remain stoic and proud during this disgrace.

After what was only a few moments, but what seemed like an eternity to Tavington, the artillery fire finally stopped. The drummer continued beating his parley, which seemed to pierce the air now that it was quiet. Will made his was closer to where Captain Nixon and the boy stood. Looking to an angle, he saw a small contingent of blue coated men making their way across the grass and mud of the battlefield. Tavington sucked in a breath, yet kept a stone face as he watched the men blindfold the British captain, then lead him away back across the field to the rebel lines.

General Tavington watched as the little drummer boy walked down from the small mound. He hung his head as he walked past the tall general, for the young drummer was crying and embarrassed that he was.

William turned and watched the boy as he stopped. He could see the drummer taking a deep breath then raise his hands to his face, probably wiping the tears away. The boy turned back to face the officer, realizing he'd forgotten to acknowledge the man with respect as he walked by, too wrapped up in his own sorrow.

The young boy bowed his head to Tavington. "General," he said simply.

"Well done, lad," William said with a nod of his head.

"Sir, did we lose?" he asked.

Tavington heaved a sullen sigh then replied, "Yes."

-/-

William Tavington looked at his pocket watch quickly, noting the time. He watched as the officer who would be riding beside him today, Major Watson, climbed upon the horse then received the British flag, handed up to him. The general looked at the man and spoke.

"2 O'clock in the afternoon, 19th of October, seventeen hundred and eighty one," he declared, "an hour of disgrace for the Crown."

"Yes, sir," the dejected Major answered.

"I'd much rather march to the noose instead of to surrender," Tavington proclaimed.

"Aye, sir," Watson replied.

As the two men waited on General Charles O'Hara to join them, Tavington thought about the hours that had followed their surrender on the previous morning. William was still sore that all the details of the terms of surrender weren't being shared with every officer, and that he was having to rely on second hand information.

He only knew that the lower ranks of men were to surrender their arms, and would be imprisoned as official prisoners of war. Rumors were still flying about as to what punishment His Majesty's officers faced.

At lunchtime today, the generals had been gathered into the dining room of the house. At that time, Lord Cornwallis announced that he would not be attending the surrender ceremonies. He ordered that Generals O'Hara and Tavington were to attend in his place with his apologies. The earl informed at that time that the men were to be fully dressed in uniform and to march in ranks behind the two Generals. The flag bearer, Major Watson, was to have the colors cased as per the colonial's surrender requests.

William took the surrender of the British, after having performed his duties with loyalty and having risked his life, and eventually been injured in the process, very personally. He abhorred that he and General O'Hara had been ordered to perform this most embarrassing of tasks that the Earl should have been doing. He did not question the order, but decided that he would look his best and hold his head high during the disgrace, and show no emotion.

After another moment, Charles O'Hara joined the waiting officers. He looked back at the ranks, seeing the men dressed smartly in their red uniforms. He yelled back at the ranks, "Gentlemen, it's been an honor to serve with all of you. Remember who you are and what you fought for, and of that, you can be proud. So, hold your heads high, men, and keep a stiff upper lip!"

Then he moved his horse back into line with Major Watson and General Tavington flanking him. He gave order for army to move out.

As the British column moved down the road toward the meeting area, the trio of officers leading the men looked about and noticed the French and colonial soldiers lining the road, standing straight and in rank. Tavington noted that the French were dressed nicely in uniform, and the rebels bore remnants of uniforms, with some in the full blue kit mixed in here and there. He wondered to himself how this rag tag bunch had beaten them. O'Hara, atop the horse beside him, couldn't help but think how this army with no funds could even begin to form a new nation with no money.

After what seemed like awhile of marching, they saw the head of the French army, allies to the colonials. The ranks were stopped and Tavington and Watson watched as General O'Hara rode his horse up the French commander Count Rochambeau. He dismounted, walked over to the man, said a few words, then tried to give the surrender sword to the Frenchman.

"We are subordinate to the colonials," Rochambeau declared in French to O'Hara. He then gestured to where General George Washington, commander of the colonial army, stood.

William swallowed hard, yet held his head high as he watched O'Hara walk to General Washington. The redcoat brigadier general made apologies for the Earl's absence, then offered his sword to the commander. Washington, a tall, imposing looking man, gestured for the British general to surrender the weapon to the man who stood beside him, General Lincoln.

For a third time now, O'Hara had to move and stand before yet another enemy commander. If the redcoat brigadier was flustered by all the refusal, he certainly did not show it. He continued to hold his head high and speak and carry himself with grace and charm.

When Charles O'Hara stood in front of General Lincoln, he recognized his face. In an instant, he remembered that _he_ was the general who had surrendered Charles Towne a year and a half ago when they had taken it. And now, _he_ was accepting the capitulation of the British.

After that was done, Tavington and O'Hara sat atop their horses, watching as the ranks of British soldiers marched past them and surrendered their arms. Although a drummer boy beat a loud cadence, the clanking of the metal of the guns as they were laid down in a pile before the enemy seemed deafening to the proud redcoat commanders, with each clank driving a nail of shame into the proud generals.

When the last infantryman had laid down his musket, the British generals watched as the men were marched off to some distant prison camp. The breathed a sigh of relief when it was over, glad to at least to have that part of their disgrace over with. They soon turned their horses, and Generals Tavington and O'Hara led the small detachment of British officers back toward their encampment at Yorktown, where they would be held on detention until further notice.

-/-

The British camp just outside of Yorktown had turned into a smaller version of what it had been, having become the temporary home to all the redcoat officers. A couple of days after the surrender, they had been confined there, on a sort of house arrest until a decision had been made as to their fates. The officers had been told to keep in their own tents, but with a few bribes to the lower ranking colonials guarding the camp, they could move discreetly between each other's tents. Since this was so, it had already started a rumor mill as to what was to happen to the men.

It was late afternoon as General Tavington, escorted by a blue coated rebel, returned to his tent. Once in his tent, he counted to three, then peaked back outside the tent flap, watching the soldier he'd walked with only a minute ago strolling back out of the camp. Will stuck his head cautiously out of the canvas, looked both ways and saw no guards around. He then stole quietly from his tent, darting between the cloth huts for two rows, and arrived at the quarters of Colonel Tarleton.

After knocking on the pole, he entered. He looked at the three officers gathered within: Major George Hanger, Major Wilkins, and Tarleton. The three looked nervous and tired.

"What did you find out, Tav?" asked Banastre.

"The best I could get was news from one of the rebel officers," replied William, "and I had to pay a hefty price to get that!"

"What is it?" asked Hanger.

"We're to be moved to New York," he began, "and paroled when we get there. He doesn't yet know the terms of the parole."

"Alright," Wilkins said. "So, we're to be paroled, but we don't know for how long or the other details?"

"Correct," Tavington said.

"Why didn't you talk to Lord Cornwallis?" Tarleton asked.

"He and General O'Hara were having dinner with General Washington and his staff," answered William.

Banastre cocked his head to the side. "We are officers of esteem. Why haven't _we_ been invited to dine with the colonials?"

"I personally don't care to dine with the bloody colonials," Tavington commented in disdain, "I hope they all burn in Hell."

"Except for the ones with money that our plantations need for business," Wilkins interjected sarcastically, yet meaning it.

William, although he shot James a sour look, he knew that his fellow officer and neighbor from home was right.

Tarleton, knowing the formalities of war and opposing armies, knew that it was customary for the victor to invite the defeated forces' officers to their tables. Usually, it was done by rank. The colonial colonels should have invited them to dine, but hadn't done so.

Ban was incensed that an invitation hadn't been extended to the cavalry officers, including former officer Tavington. "This had to have been an oversight. I saw the French officers near the back gate. I'm going to go ask them why only the generals have been invited to dinner."

Tavington, Hanger, and Wilkins followed a determined Ban out of his tent as he stormed toward the back of the temporary prison camp. They could tell that this was a huge insult to Ban, who had already been humiliated enough when the horse he was riding back into Yorktown on a couple of days ago, had been taken from him and he was forced to walk.

At the back of the camp, he walked up to a young looking, smartly dressed Frenchman, whom Ban knew to be the Marquis De Lafayette. He asked him if the oversight had been accidental. The Frenchman told him that he knew nothing of the dining arrangements and referred him to Colonel Laurens, one of Washington's aide-de-camps.

By now, Tarleton had worked himself up into a fury, and the other three officers were worried that he was going to get into trouble. They trailed behind the red haired colonel as he tore through the camp, back to the front gate. Once there, he asked to talk to Washington's adjutant. When he was told to go back to his tent, especially by a lower ranking colonial guard, he blew up. The usually fun loving colonel began yelling, demanding to see Colonel Laurens.

William, Jim, and Georgie were pulling on Banastre, trying to get him to come back with them to the tent, afraid of jeopardizing an already fragile parole agreement. Finally, Jim found that one of the gate guards was from South Carolina, near where the Wilkins' vineyard was located. Wilkins was able to talk the man, with a bit of a bribe, into bringing Colonel Laurens to the small group for conference.

The two colonels were introduced, and Banastre quickly launched into his interrogation with no further formalities.

"Colonel Laurens, pray tell me," he began, "was it an accidental oversight on the part of your leaders that His Majesty's cavalry officers weren't invited to dine at your table?"

"No, Colonel Tarleton, it was no accident at all," answered Laurens, "It was intentional I can assure you. It was meant as a reproof for certain cruelties practiced by the troops under yours and General Tavington's command in the campaigns in the Carolinas."

Banastre was livid. "What sir?" he scornfully rejoined, "It is for severities inseparable from war that you are pleased to term 'cruelties', that I and my fellow officers here are to be disgraced before junior officers?"

Laurens said nothing, letting the incensed British officer continue his tirade. "Sir, it is for a faithful discharge of our duty to King and country that we are to be humiliated in the eyes of three armies here?" Ban motioned back to the officers behind him, then pointing into Yorktown, meaning the British, the colonial, and the French armies convened there.

"Pardon me, Colonel," Laurens interjected politely, yet firmly and unfazed, "There are modes of discharging a soldier's duty, and where mercy has a share in the mode, it renders the duty more acceptable to both friends and foes." With that, he turned and headed back toward the main gate.

The officers stood there, stunned. Their sentiment echoed that of Tarleton's: that they discharged their duty faithfully, and that war had certain costs and casualties. The redcoat officers did not think that their actions during a time of war, would be held against them outside of it.

Tarleton, not ready to give up, ran after Laurens and caught him. He spun the man around to face him before he was restrained by a couple of colonial officers. Wilkins, who towered over both of them, convinced them that they could restrain him themselves. They let go as Ban's fellow officers started to drag him away.

"Colonel Laurens," Banastre yelled as he pointed toward Tavington, "This general's wife was raped unmercifully by _your_ Colonel Burwell! What part of his duty was _that_ and where was _his_ mercy in discharging it?"

"That most assuredly, is a dirty lie spun by you damned redcoats," he answered.

"It's no lie," Tavington screamed, "She _was_ violated more than once by him!"

"We're through here," the colonial officer stated.

With that, Laurens turned and began walking toward the gate again, not amused by the redcoat's accusations. Tarleton, defeated and humiliated, looked at his fellow officers. He could tell that they were all itching to say something more. He knew that Tavington and Wilkins were limited as to what more they could do because they had plantations here that did business with colonials, and they could not sacrifice their futures.

Instead, Major Hanger walked away from the group and cordially called Colonel Laurens. The man turned back around, happy not to have to argue anymore with Tarleton.

"Colonel Laurens," Hanger shouted, "I hope you and your officers fucking choke on your dinners. You have bloody well earned it!"

_~/~_

**Author's note: **

"**Cased Colors" meant that the army's flag (s) could not be unfurled and wave proudly. They had to be cloaked or rolled up and bound on to the pole.**

**It is true that General O'Hara went to the surrender ceremony in Earl Cornwallis' stead. He did try to surrender to the French commander first, was directed to General Washington, then made to surrender to Lincoln, who had to surrender Charles Towne 18 months before to the British.**

**It is also true that Banastre Tarleton, due to what was deemed atrocities in his duty, was not invited to any post surrender dinners with the enemy. I read that it was considered hospitable for the victor to invite the defeated to dine with them. Tarleton took this as a huge insult and felt humiliation . The words here between him and Laurens are mostly historically correct as per the Tarleton biography, "The Green Dragoon" by Robert Bass as to what was said when Ban asked if it was an accidental oversight that he was not invited to dine. **

**Here I have Tarleton as being humiliated by having a horse he was riding being taken out from under him and he was made to walk. I have this happening as right after the surrender on his way back into Yorktown. I embellished that a bit for dramatic licence—I believe it actually happened afterwards, with Tarleton riding with some French officers who had invited him to dine with them. A local man recognized the horse as having been one that was confiscated from his master. He approached Tarleton and demanded the horse be returned right then. One of the French officers, rather than having Tarleton suffer the indignity of walking, unseated his orderly and let Tarleton ride on that horse.**

**I also have the British officers as being held temporarily on a sort of "house arrest" in the camp until they can be moved to New York and paroled. I don't think this was the case as in my readings it sounds like they were able to move freely about Yorktown after the surrender, so I did it for dramatic license again sort of leaving the men in the dark and having to rely on rumors, etc, and all that that surrounds war, surrender, confusion, etc. **

**I apologize for not using Major George Hanger, Banastre Tarleton's real life second in command, more in my stories and up to this point. He truly was a funny, eccentric character. I don't know why I haven't used him more—he would be even funnier than Banastre. He was quite handy with the ladies and kept a menagerie of exotic pets of which his favorite seemed to be his monkey.**

**A humorous note that I have to share with you all:**** If you read chapter 67, you will remember a lot of talk about (and the actions of certain officers) sex. My husband skimmed over the chapter and laughed, and due to the subject matter of the chapter, said that I should have called it "Encamped at Porktown" since the officers were talking about "porking" and spending their spare time "porking". Although we shared a huge laugh over it, I told him that the term "porking (an American contemporary slang term for, well, you know what)" was not historically correct for the era so I couldn't have used it nor could I have renamed the place!**


	69. Chapter 69 New Life

Chapter 69 New Life

_Early November, 1781, South Carolina…._

"That's it, Mrs. Wilkins! You're doing well!," the midwife exclaimed, trying to encourage the tired Irish woman.

Melanie sat next to Bridget on her bed, holding her hand and smiling. She could not believe that the time for her friend to give birth was finally here. And she felt nearly as tired as Mrs. Wilkins looked, for she had been sitting with her for the last twenty-four hours and was pregnant herself.

The Wilkins' servants had sent for Mrs. Tavington shortly after the Irish woman had gone into labor. Not long after that, Melanie arrived and stayed by Bridget's side, encouraging her and helping with the birth.

"Melanie, you shouldn't be here," Bridget was crying in exhaustion and pain, "you need you're rest. You have your own baby to think of."

"Bridget, don't be silly," Melanie whispered, "I'm fine. You know that I wouldn't miss this and I promised you I'd be here."

"Alright, Mrs. Wilkins, bear down and push again," the midwife instructed.

"Oh, God when does all this stop!" Bridget sobbed. "The pain!"

"Think of Jim and what he will look like holding the child," Melanie encouraged and squeezed her hand.

Mrs. Wilkins looked at her and smiled through her tears, then pushed again, groaning as she did.

"The head is out," the midwife informed. Melanie felt exhilarated, wishing she could give some of that energy to her worn out friend.

"I'm so tired," Bridget gasped, clinging to Mrs. Tavington's hand. The look in her eyes was one of pleading for the birth experience to end.

"I know you are, but you're near the end," Melanie said, "the baby's almost out!"

"One more push should do it, Mrs. Wilkins," the midwife directed.

Melanie helped Bridget to sit up a little bit to support a harder push. A weary Mrs. Wilkins looked down at the edge of the bed at the midwife.

"Mrs. Wilkins, take a deep breath, then push and hold it for a few seconds," she requested.

"Oh….Ah…" Bridget screamed in pain.

"Keep pushing," cried the midwife, "it's almost done!"

"Go on, you can do it!" Mrs. Tavington coaxed.

felt the pain ease just a bit, then unable to push anymore, she dropped back onto the bed. The woman was panting, trying to catch her breath and praying for relief.

"It's a boy!" the midwife exclaimed.

Bridget Wilkins began to cry in relief that it was over and in joy that her baby had been born. She smiled up at Melanie through her tears. Her friend returned a happy grin, thrilled that the baby was here and glad that Bridget was out of the worst of the pain.

"You told me it would be a boy," Mrs. Tavington laughed.

"Yes! Jim will be overjoyed," she sobbed in happiness.

The midwife showed Bridget the baby, covered with blood and mucus, and crying loudly. Then she helped Mrs. Wilkins expel the afterbirth as Melanie cleaned up the infant boy.

After a few moments to clean the new mother up and make her comfortable, Bridget got to hold her son for the first time. Melanie sat next to her as she did, both women admiring the newborn.

"I can't tell who he looks like," Mrs. Wilkins remarked.

Mrs. Tavington smoothed a finger over the child's moderate head of hair. "Well, he has Jim's brown, wavy hair."

"Yes he does," Bridget replied.

Melanie took the baby as Mrs. Wilkins repositioned herself in bed, struggling to sit up. Mrs. Tavington gazed at the newborn boy, smiling as she did. His lips found the young woman's pinky and began to suck on it.

"He's hungry," she said, handing the baby back to his mother. She put him to her breast where the babe instinctively latched on and began suckling hard, causing Bridget to whimper.

The women continued to look at the baby as he suckled happily away, filling his little belly.

"What are you going to name him?"

"James Kilpatrick Wilkins," answered Bridget.

"After his father and mother," Melanie remarked.

"Just think, in five months you'll have a baby, too!"

"Yes," Mrs. Tavington said. Her hand dropped to her slightly swollen belly. As her fingers moved over it, the child within fluttered inside, then kicked lightly, making Melanie smile softly.

~/~

Mrs. Wilkins had done well recovering from childbirth and had a smooth lying in period. Today was the last day that Melanie would stay with her, then she would return home as Bridget would be out of bed and around.

Mrs. Tavington continued folding and stacking washed cloths for the baby's diapers. After putting them away, she moved over to the chair by the bed and sat down.

Melanie caught her breath as she felt the baby kick hard within her. Her hand dropped to her belly, rubbing where the child kicked. Then she felt fluttering within.

Bridget looked over at her friend and spoke. "You're feeling the baby move more now?"

"Yes…..it's very active today," she said, loving the feeling of the child moving about inside her.

"Little Jimmy is a week old today," said Bridget. "I think he has changed already!"

"I agree," said Melanie. "He sure is a hungry little thing." She watched as the baby, his belly full now, began to fall asleep at her friend's breast.

"Yes, I believe he will drink me dry," Bridget remarked as she withdrew her nipple from the now sleeping baby's mouth.

Mrs. Tavington watched absently as Mrs. Wilkins laid the infant down in his crib by the bedside. Melanie was thinking about her husband, wondering if he'd received her letter telling him of her pregnancy yet. She had broken down, being so excited that she was pregnant, and had written to him of it at the end of September, just two weeks after she'd been discovered to be with child. The young woman wondered what William would think.

Bridget noticed the faraway look in her friend's eye. "Thinking of William?"

"Yes," replied Melanie. "I wonder if he's received my letter yet? If he knows of the child?"

Just then, the pretty French indentured servant Yvette breezed in. "Mrs. Tavington, a letter for you. It came by express rider."

Melanie perked up and smiled. The maid gave her the letter then left the two women alone.

Bridget smiled wide. "I wager that it's from the General," she said. "He probably received your letter!"

"Yes, I hope so!", Melanie replied, anxiously opening the letter, unable to contain her excitement. "I can't wait to see what Will thinks about the baby!"

Mrs. Tavington smiled as she began reading, recognizing her husband's handwriting.

Mrs. Wilkins, always anxious to hear news of where the men were, tried looking at the letter. "What does it say? Read it aloud!"

She looked at her friend as she continued to read. Bridget watched as the beautiful smile on Melanie's face soon dissolved into distress and alarm.

The Irish woman became instantly worried. "For God's sake, what is it?"

As Mrs. Tavington continued to read, she gasped, one hand covering her mouth while the other still clasped the letter.

"Oh no!" she cried aloud, on the verge of tears. Melanie finished the letter, shaking as she did.

A worried Bridget took the letter from her friend's hands and began to read it.

_20__th__ October, 1781 Yorktown_

_My dear Melanie,_

_I write this in haste. I hope you get this letter. I know how your heart can hurt when you hear rumours. I hate for you to have a new set of them to contend with._

_Please share this with Mrs. Wilkins in care she hears nothing from Jim, as I hope she will share news from him if this doesn't get to you._

_Lord Cornwallis surrendered. I am not sure what is to become of us. For now, we are prisoners, confined to our tents here in Yorktown by the rebels. I am not sure what deals and conditions are being negotiated. _

_The rumour around camp is that the officers are to be moved to New York where we may be paroled. That is all I have heard. _

_Darling, I don't know how long I'll be away now. I give you my word that I am cooperating with the colonials and their wishes—even though you know that I don't care for the traitors! I do it on the hope that it will get me home to you._

_I hope you have received my letters. I don't know how many you've sent—I have received some._

_Melanie, please know that I will do my damndest to get home. Remember that I love you._

_I miss you so!_

_Your William_

Bridget looked at Mrs. Tavington, who was shaking and now hyperventilating. She put aside her own worry for James at the moment—she could worry about him later. For now, she was concerned about her friend sitting next to her, with a precarious pregnancy, who didn't need the worry this brought on.

She grabbed Melanie's shoulders in an attempt to comfort her panicked friend. "Melanie! Melanie! You've got to calm down," she cried, trying to console her friend. Her hand dropped, coming to rest on the young woman's belly. "Think about this one inside here," she said, trying to get her attention.

Mrs. Tavington looked at her, tears in her eyes, saying nothing. "The doctor told you to rest and have no worries," reminded Mrs. Wilkins.

"You don't want another miscarriage do you?" asked Bridget.

Melanie shook her head no, wiping at the tears on her cheeks.

"If you want to have any chance of carrying this baby to term," Bridget said, "you have to calm down."

Melanie sniffed, fighting back her tears. "It's just that William has no fear, and you know how his temper is," Mrs. Tavington commented, "I'm so afraid that he will say or do something to get himself into trouble."

"But he admits to cooperating with the rebels in the letter," Mrs. Wilkins reminded.

"I know," Melanie answered, still trembling. "But still he….he…it gets the best of him." Her voice broke as she began to cry again.

"No….Jim won't let him," Bridget encouraged, "He will remind him of his wife with child at home and his business to come home to."

"In the letter, though, he mentioned nothing of the baby," Melanie sobbed. "Maybe he didn't get my letter. Maybe he doesn't know."

"Surely he's received the news by now," Bridget soothed, "Maybe he didn't have the letter yet before he sent this note."

"You're probably right," Melanie conceded, still weeping.

"Melanie, please! You must get hold of yourself and calm down," urged a worried Bridget.

"I know. It's just that I think of Alex and…and….I…I don't want to bury another officer," Melanie wept. "I can't. I don't want to go through that again."

Bridget handed the General's wife a delicate lace handkerchief. Melanie dabbed at the tears in her eyes then stopped suddenly. The woman felt heat come over her, then felt a wave of nausea roll over her.

"Oh….Oh God," she cried. She got up from the chair and charged toward the chamber pot. The poor woman fell to her knees and heaved into the container.

Mrs. Wilkins tore the covers back and ran to her friend who was still throwing up. Bridget noted how quickly the color had drained from the woman's face.

Melanie felt Bridget's hands on her shoulders and rebuked her friend in the middle of vomiting. "Bridget! You're not supposed to be out of bed yet," Mrs. Tavington cried in between heaves. "Go back…go back to bed," she gasped.

"No, Melanie, look at you," she said, stubbornly staying at her friend's side. "You are making yourself sick over this."

"I'm pregnant! I'm already sick," Melanie protested, her head still buried in the porcelain pot.

"Melanie, _please_!"

"You worry about James, I'll worry about William," Mrs. Tavington snapped, wishing the nausea would pass.

"I'm worried about _you_ and the child at the moment," Bridget retorted.

After another moment of puking, Melanie sat back from the pot, wiping her face and mouth. She looked at Bridget, still kneeling beside her. The general's wife's eyes were flooded with tears as a look of horror crossed her face. Her hand covered her mouth as she began to nod her head in disbelief.

"What? What is it?," a scared Bridget pleaded with her friend, dreading what else the girl might say.

"You don't think—," Melanie began then stopped herself, unable to say the words. "What if they—?" her voice breaking again. "William did some…..some….horrible things…in the name of duty. What if they….ex—," General Tavington's wife stammered through her tears then stopped again.

"Melanie?"

"Execute him?", Melanie finished her thought, collapsing into a heap of tears in Mrs. Wilkins' arms.

"No….no….Melanie….they wouldn't surely," Bridget consoled, but wasn't sure at all. She had heard rumors, and knew what little her own husband James would tell her about what the dragoons were made to do for the sake of duty….for King and Country….under the direction of then Colonel Tavington. Mrs. Wilkins knew that Colonel Tarleton's actions weren't much better. She pushed the worry for her own husband's life down into her soul, trying to comfort her panicked friend and help her keep the baby and carry it to term.

After a moment, both women helped each other up from the floor. They leaned on one another as they made their way back to the bed and chair beside it. Once Bridget climbed back in bed, Melanie collapsed in the wingback chair by the bed, unable to stop her weeping.

Mrs. Tavington went on, talking through her sobs. Her hand dropped to her swollen belly, rubbing it and the growing child within. "It's just….I want this child to know its father. I want Will to come home to me."

Mrs. Wilkins wiped the tears from her friend's cheek with her fingers then caressed it. "You _do_ love the General, don't you?" asked Bridget.

Melanie took hold of her friend's hand. "No….yes…..I don't know," she answered. "I just….I…..I want him to come back to me…..and his child."

"Then you must calm yourself," Bridget coaxed.

"Yes, I know you're right," Melanie said, taking a breath, trying to relax.

With that, the French maid entered the room to check on Mrs. Wilkins. "Yvette, would you please drag that chaise over here next to the bed please?"

"Oui, Madame," she answered.

"And gather a pillow and blanket," requested Bridget. "Mrs. Tavington is not feeling well. She is going to rest."

"Very good, Madame," the maid answered.

In a moment, she reappeared with blanket and pillow in hand. The maid also placed a clean chamber pot over close to the chaise, thinking Mrs. Tavington may be nauseous again.

"Yvette, both Mrs. Tavington and I are going to rest now," she told the servant. The young house maid went to the window and pulled the drapes shut then looked back at her mistress. "Would you like me to take the baby?"

"No, he's just eaten and is sleeping," she said. "He's fine in here. He'll probably stay down for the next two or three hours."

"Ah…Oui," Yvette agreed.

"Please, don't disturb us unless it is an emergency," Mrs. Wilkins directed the servant.

"Oui, Madame," the servant said as she shut the door.

"Please, Melanie, close your eyes and rest," pleaded Bridget. "I'm very worried for you and the little one."

"I'll be fine, Bridget," Mrs. Tavington replied as she reclined on the chaise.

Both women pulled the covers over themselves and were quiet. Both laid awake, neither one saying a thing, worried about their husband's fates.


	70. Chapter 70 Parole And Misbehavior

Author's note: I apologize so much for this being an overdue update. Real life has kept me so busy since the last update! Again, thanks to all of you for being patient, and for sticking with this long story that has turned into an epic! It is nearing the end, I swear!

Thanks JScorpio

Chapter 70 Parole And Misbehavior

_November-December 1781 New York ..._

General Charles O'Hara hurried down Wall Street in New York to the residence where four of his cavalry officers had been billeted during their parole. The brigadier carried the message for them that Earl Cornwallis needed to see them right away.

He finally arrived at the home, a modest one which had been confiscated from a rebel sympathizer years before when New York was first occupied by the British. It was a three story, single room wide row home, in the style of some of the homes in London.

General O'Hara knocked at the door. It was opened swiftly by an older woman with a cross look on her face.

"Good evening, Ma'am. I'm General Charles O'Hara," he greeted cordially, "Is General Tavington in?"

"No," she answered flatly.

"I see. How about Colonel Tarleton?"

"No—they're all gone."

"When are they due back?" asked the general.

"I don't know," the housekeeper replied, "They don't check in with me, and they never seem to make an early evening of it."

"Did they leave word where they went?"

"No."

"Do you have any idea where they may be?", O'Hara asked, now growing concerned, needing to find the men and hoping they weren't up to trouble like the rumours that had made their way back to Lord Cornwallis.

"There is a pub, 'The Fox and Hare Tavern'," the servant began, "which they talk a lot of, so I assume they must frequent it. It's a couple of blocks over and around the corner."

"Thank you," the officer answered.

"If they aren't at the tavern," informed the housekeeper, "then just look for the trail of empty liquor bottles, discarded women, angry men, and unpaid debts. Follow that and you'll surely find them at the end of it!"

"Unpaid debts….," O'Hara echoed, cringing as he did.

"Yes. Why those two red haired fellows already owe money all over the city, word is," she declared. "You ain't the only one that's been to this door looking for them!"

Charles O'Hara closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It was as his superior Cornwallis had suspected: his officers had been behaving badly while on parole. One of the most specific conditions of the parole of the British officers was for the officers to remain on good behavior.

"And none of those officers have paid me in days," the housekeeper commented, breaking the general's thoughts.

With that, O'Hara reached into his own pocket and retrieved a couple of coins. "Here you go ma'am," he said as he placed two sovereigns in the woman's hand. "The Crown always pays its debts. His Majesty most appreciates you taking care of his noble officers."

"Noble?" she scoffed. "King George needs to put leashes on those soldiers! They seem to have forgotten their manners!"

The officer once again reached into his pocket and found another coin. He handed the woman the silver piece with a nervous and awkward smile. "Uh…for your trouble….ma'am."

With that, General O'Hara tipped his hat to the woman, turned, and headed down the street. As he did, the cavalry officer's housekeeper called after him.

"Good Luck, Sir. I'm sure there will be trouble wherever you find them."

~/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/~

About ten minutes later, General O'Hara arrived at the Fox and Hare Pub. He was greeted by what was a broken chair, laying in pieces on the sidewalk in front of the establishment. It had obviously been thrown through the broken window in front. He could hear the shouts of angry men inside. He closed his eyes, and sighed, feeling in his gut that he'd found the officers he was looking for.

He hesitated outside for a moment, trying to find the courage to go into the place. Just as he did, Major George Hanger appeared in the window, hanging his upper body out of it, trying to suck in some fresh air.

Inside a brawl was going on between the local colonials and a certain four dragoon officers. Apparently, a running bar tab had not been paid by one of the officers and was called in today by the barkeep. Also, one of the locals recognized Major Hanger as the man who had skipped out of a card game the other night owing money.

"Major, I need to see General Tavington," O'Hara yelled above the din.

Major Hanger pushed himself up off the windowsill and looked back into the bar. He could see Tavington throwing punches at some of the locals.

George looked back at the general and answered, slurring his words. "Uh…..he's busy right now."

"What about Colonel Tarleton, then?", asked the general.

Hanger once again looked back into the pub. He spotted Banastre Tarleton. The colonel was being held against the wall by two large colonials, while another showered the man with punches.

"Uh….he's tied up as well," answered a drunken Hanger.

A frustrated General O'Hara then walked into the pub. He looked about to see his best officers fighting the local colonials. There was broken glass and furniture strewn about. The officer saw Major Wilkins, who was in a corner trying to hold off a man with his sword.

O'Hara tried yelling to his cavalry officers but apparently his voice could not be heard above the noise. The brigadier, frustrated over the whole situation, calmly removed his pistol from its holster. He then fired a shot into the ceiling.

The fighting and noise within the establishment immediately stopped. Ban was let go from being held against the wall. He fell to the floor on all fours and began coughing, trying to catch his breath.

"Shall I call for the constable?," the general asked curtly.

An obviously alarmed man vaulted over the bar and ran up to General O'Hara. The officer figured the man to be the barkeeper, and that he was afraid for the police to come.

"That won't be necessary sir," he declared. "But if you please, if you know these redcoat officers, please take them with you. They cause trouble every time they come in here."

"Why don't you just ban then from coming in here, then?", asked the General.

"I can't sir," the barman replied. "I need their business!"

~/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/~

General O'Hara soon gathered his cavalry officers and left. They painted a picture of wretchedness as they walked down the street. Their uniforms were torn and bloodied, and their neatly queued hair was coming loose from the plait braids, or had escaped altogether and hung loosely about their shoulders.

"Really, gentlemen," the General began, "The way you are acting is a disgrace! It is no way for esteemed officers of the Crown to conduct themselves, especially in front of these…..peasants."

The cavalry officers said nothing as they walked along behind the general, still nursing their wounds. O'Hara glared back at them. Then his expression changed to surprise as he stopped in his tracks. Tavington, Wilkins, and Tarleton, tired and beaten, kept walking around the stopped officer, only wanting to find chairs to flop down into.

"Aren't any of you concerned that Major Hanger is lying face down in the gutter?," asked O'Hara as he stood over the obviously passed out officer.

Wilkins stopped walking, said nothing, and turned back, taking a few steps over to the unconscious major. He reached down and picked the diminutive officer up. He slung him across his shoulders, gripping the younger soldier's arm and leg.

"You'd better sober him up before he sees the general," suggested O'Hara.

"No need," offered Banastre. "He'll feel better in a few moments after he wakes up—or throws up."

"Sir," began Tavington, "I'm a little puzzled as to why the Earl would send his top general to fetch us."

"Yeah," Ban agreed. "That's an aide-de-camp's duty."

O'Hara gave both men a sharp look, then answered them. "Well the Lord General is a little short of aide-de-camps. The lower ranking adjutants were sent to the rebel prison."

~/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/~

A few moments later, the motley looking bunch stood before General Lord Cornwallis in his office. The earl had the good fortune to be ensconced in one of the finest mansions in all of New York.

Lord Cornwallis looked at the roughed up officers before him, then spoke his mind. "Well, I guess the rumors are true," he declared. "I can see that the devil has made good use of your idle hands."

All four of the officers began speaking at once, seeming to forget their ranks. The two married officer's strain from worry over their wives at home alone, Wilkins' wondering about his wife giving birth and how she and the baby were faring, and the fact that both had been away from their plantation businesses for so long had finally broken them. They vented their frustration here.

"Sir, in me and General Tavington's defense," Wilkins began, only to be drowned out by Ban.

"Sir it wasn't our fault," Ban said. "We were just minding our own business in the pub having a few ales—"

"Tav and I have done nothing since we have been on parole but save your two asses!," Wilkins shouted at Tarleton.

"Yes—you both owe money all over town and can't cover your debts!" William yelled.

"Yes! Your gambling debts and bar tabs," Wilkins defended. "We can't go anywhere in town without being accosted!"

"We don't have it as good as the two of you wealthy plantation owners," Ban shot back.

"Bloody Hell!," Tavington retorted. "Your families are as well off as ours—they just don't want to cover your debts anymore."

"You've used up all the women in town," Wilkins remarked. "Treated them all like whores."

"They're all strumpets!," Ban pointed out. "Their only concerns are to make 'lobster kettles' of themselves."

George Hanger had said nothing up to this point. He was weaving with drunkenness, being held up by the others. Suddenly, he bent over and vomited at the feet of General Cornwallis.

The Earl remained calm. He spoke in a patronizing tone. "Do you feel better now, Major?

"Yes sir," Hanger answered while wiping his mouth with his handkerchief. "Thank you, sir."

"Well shall we move this meeting into the outer vestibule now that Major Hanger saw fit to redecorate my office with his vomit?" Cornwallis asked.

The group of officers moved into the outer room. The Earl continued on speaking with the bunch.

"Gentlemen, enough!", Lord Cornwallis began. "I've had complaints from residents and business owners all over New York. Your misbehavior is putting our fragile parole agreement with the rebels at risk."

The Earl heaved a sigh, then went on. "Really, men. You are my finest officers, and I include the late Major Bordon in that as well. But, you can't seem to stay out of trouble both on and off duty!"

"Now, I've learned more about parole terms", the Earl said, changing the subject. "We are to stay here a few more days. The lot of us from England, they will be deporting us back there. Wilkins, since you are a colonial loyalist, they are sending you to Nova Scotia."

"They can't do this to us!," Wilkins protested. "We have wives and plantations in South Carolina. My wife has given birth for all I know and have no idea as to whether she and my child are well or did not survive it. I'm anxious to get home."

"Yes. And although I am from England and still have family there, I am married to a colonial and of course, want and need to stay here," Tavington spoke up. "We have established businesses there. We can't go anywhere. They can't make us!"

"No! They CAN do this to us," Cornwallis corrected. "They don't want us staying here—living among them. They want us gone. Your abominable misconduct both on and off duty has not helped things."

"I won't go! I refuse," Tavington said.

"I'm with him," Wilkins affirmed.

"I'm afraid you don't have a choice," the Lord General confirmed. "When the ship leaves, you will be on it!"

After the men were dismissed, they walked along the sidewalks back to their temporary residence. Colonel Tarleton lagged behind, helping a still quite drunken Major Hanger to walk. This allowed a little distance between the pair of married officers, and the bachelor officers. It also gave Tavington and Wilkins a few moments to privately discuss a plan of action—their next step. Both men were adamant that they would not leave their wives and homes in South Carolina just for a parole agreement.

"Look, those two can mess about all they like," Tavington said in a low voice, turning to Wilkins as they walked along, "they've got no ties. But we've got to look for some way to get home, even if it means breaking parole."

"Yes, I agree," Wilkins said. "Let's start quietly looking around and putting the word out discreetly and maybe we can come up with something."

"In the meantime," Tavington added, "let's keep this between us only. Tell no one—especially either of those two back there. Who knows which drunken and slack jaw would reveal our plans and kill our chances to get home."

~/*/*/*/*/*/*/~

In the days following the meeting with General Cornwallis, Hanger and Tarleton continued their carefree whoring and gambling while Tavington and Wilkins were out scouring the city of New York looking for a scheme to get them back home. Within a few days, Wilkins found a strong possibility for a passage home to South Carolina.

James entered the residence one afternoon with a Jesuit priest in tow, surprising Tavington. William stood immediately, showing some respect for the clergyman.

"Hello father," he said, then pulled Jim aside and whispered, "What's with the priest?"

"I believe he is our way back to South Carolina," answered James. "He has a group that may be able to smuggle us out."

"Oh," Will answered.

"He's French and speaks no English," Wilkins informed. "I'll speak to him for both of us."

Jim had learned French on a couple of visits to France with his father years ago when the elder Wilkins was looking for advice in his winery business. Though not fluent, he had enough grasp of the language to carry on a halfway faltering conversation with apologies.

He asked the priest and Tavington to join him upstairs where they could discuss details privately. They moved upstairs to the bedroom that had the larger table in it, and were embarrassed to find Major Hanger and Colonel Tarleton up there, on the beds with women. They were engaged in various stages of fondling with some items of clothing already missing.

Wilkins cleared his throat, getting the two officers' attention. The men and their women immediately stopped what they were doing and began throwing the missing apparel back on as quickly as they could, embarrassed to have been caught doing this in the presence of a clergyman.

"Uh…yes," Tarleton said, trying to save face, "That is an example of how a lewd man will try to seduce you. Hello father. We are educating these virgins to the dangers of lascivious living."

"Yes," Hanger spoke up, carrying on the ruse. He turned to the two trollops with them. "You two should strive to keep your maidenheads intact…..Oh, and say your prayers every night."

"You two can stop the act," Tavington said, rolling his eyes. "He doesn't speak English."

"Take your harlots and get the Hell out for an hour or so," Wilkins requested sharply.

"Certainly you can find some back alley in which to fuck them," William said.

One of the strumpets spoke up to Tavington and Wilkins. "Well, when we're finished with them, would you like us to come back and take care of you two?"

"I'm afraid the bulk of what money we have left is going to be employed elsewhere," Wilkins informed.

~/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/~

After an hour of discussions in French with the Jesuit priest, he gave the two officers a handshake and left with a smile on his face. A few moments after the minister's departure, Tavington and Wilkins sat back down at the table and talked about the scheme.

"So let me get this straight," William began, "We have to buy him a wagon and make a sizeable donation to the nuns to start their mission in Georgia just to travel with him and the nuns out of New York?"

"Yes," Jim answered, "Not to mention I have to send him the best wine from my winery for a year."

"Christ! I thought priests took a vow of poverty?" swore William, "He's cleaned us out of all of our money!"

"As head of a parish, he must be a business man as well."

"Businessman? Try brigand!," exclaimed Tavington. "He plundered us like a pirate!"

"You didn't think we were going to get back to South Carolina on charity and good will, did you?," Wilkins asked.

"Well, let's see," William thought aloud, "If I call in my debts from Tarleton and Hanger alone, that should cover the cost of a Conestoga."

"Sir, you know that money is gone. You'll never see it again."

"Yes—I'm afraid you're right," agreed General Tavington.

"I've got a business associate here in New York that could possibly loan us what we don't have," explained Wilkins. "He knows that our money is tied up back home and knows that we will make good on the loan."

"Yes, you know I am good for the money when I get back to the plantation. Melanie says we are doing well."

"Hmph!," Wilkins retorted. "Your late father-in-law's plantation always did do well!"

With that, the two officers heard a door slam downstairs, then footsteps coming up the stairs. They saw George and Banastre enter the room without the two women who'd been in their company just an hour before. Both younger men had glum looks on their faces.

Tavington leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head, resting it on his fingers laced together. A mischievous smile crossed his face as he greeted to two younger officers. "Well, what happened to the Virgin Mary and St. Ann?"

"The pastor spoilt their moods," George answered.

As both men plopped down in the other chairs at the table, they looked suspiciously at Wilkins and Tavington.

"Why would you two bring a priest here, in this sacred spot where you know we bring our women," asked Ban in a smart tone.

Wilkins answered, remembering his pact with William not to tell anyone of their plans lest they get spoiled. "We've converted to Catholicism and had to go to confession."

Tarleton knew better than the attempt at humor Wilkins gave to deflect the question. He decided to pry a bit further. "No…..No…..You two have something planned," he said pointing an accusing finger across the table at his fellow officers.

With that, William came out of his reclining position to lean forward over the table. He shot a harsh, menacing, look of threat to both the younger officers across from him, warning them with his eyes and face not to ask any more questions about the subject. "No….Ban. We have no plans at all."

~/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/~

A few days into December, while still on parole, Wilkins, Tavington, Hanger, and Tarleton were enjoying a leisurely stroll through a nearby park. It was a mild day, not as cold at the previous days, and the men had been stir crazy to get outside other than just walking between home and taverns and brothels.

From where they stood in their group on a side path, they looked over and saw two very well dressed colonial regular officers walking along the main promenade. Something about one of the men caught their attention. They finally realized that they recognized him from Yorktown.

"Hey—isn't that the same son of a bitch that is one of General Washington's adjutants," Ban asked aloud to all present.

" I believe so," answered George. "Isn't he the one we had words with in Yorktown in the prison enclosure?"

"Yes. That's him. Colonel Laurens was his name," Tavington recalled, never forgetting the haughty, assured expression on the man's face as he called back to the group when they were restraining Banastre after they'd been snubbed for dinner with the colonial officers.

"He said we'd lied about Melanie's rape," Tavington said angrily.

"Who's that with him?", asked Tarleton. The group of British hadn't noticed that their colonial Tory friend and officer had wandered away from their group.

"Well, if it isn't James Wilkins," the older officer with Colonel Laurens called. "I last saw you in 1776 in the assembly in Charles Towne. You spoke out against the rebellion. Now you wear a redcoat uniform."

"Harry Burwell," Wilkins retorted. "You were there recruiting traitors. I was there protecting my business interests."

"It's General Burwell now," corrected the colonial officer. "And now you are here, an officer for the Crown, on parole in New York."

William, hearing all this, gave no warning to the officers around him and interrupted the exchange between Burwell and Wilkins. Tavington charged between them, grabbing Burwell by the collar and pinning him to a large oak tree nearby.

"Do you know who I am?," snarled William into the face of the officer, "I'm Melanie Prescott's husband."

Burwell was surprised by the blindside attack, but quickly recovered his composure. With no fear, he answered back to the man pinioning him to the tree. "Oh, so you're 'the Butcher of the Carolinas'."

He paused as Tavington still held him there, then went on boldly. "It wasn't enough for her to fuck Brutal Bordon but she had to invite the Butcher Tavington into her bed as well? Is Lord Cornwallis next since she is working her way up the chain of British command?"

"I should kill you right now," Tavington growled. "You raped my wife."

"Your wife is a liar," Burwell said as he shook himself loose from Tavington's grip.

About that time, the three British officers were pulling William away from Burwell, not wanting a confrontation with an Colonial regular General in so public of a place. After all, the crowd of local civilians that had gathered nearby watching had not escaped their notice.

Harry went on taunting the redcoat general. "She was the known mistress of one of your fellow married officers. She has become a loose and immoral woman. Why it is all over the countryside that no one wanted to do business with a woman of her reputation. She seduced me in an attempt to gain her freedom."

"That is a lie!," Tavington shouted, pointing accusingly at the colonial officer. "You have besmirched my wife's honor with your actions and falsehoods about her. I want satisfaction, sir!"

General Burwell knew that Tavington was now formally challenging him to an honor duel. Harry had heard the rumors of the superior shot and sabre of Tavington and did not want to be drawn into a match with the man.

"Don't be ridiculous, General," Burwell remarked. "This is war. I am not going to a duel over something that happened as a result of it."

With that, Burwell and Laurens turned and began to walk away. Harry was glad to have deflected the duel.

Wilkins spoke into the still steaming William's ear. "Don't, General. Don't mess up our parole with a duel that might prevent us from getting home later."

Tavington took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Then he turned to Wilkins. "Jim, I'm sure as a gentleman that you, more than anyone, understand that I have one last piece of business to attend to here in New York."

James Wilkins did understand honor, and knew it to be a matter of pride when it came to Tavington, his wife, and his plantation business. He didn't want anything sullying all that.

William, always the expert at provoking and manipulating people, turned up the heat and went after the colonial General.

"Burwell!," he called after him. "Did you know that your sister moaned like a whore when my officers ravished her? She was a very receptive piece of ass. Indeed—she was insatiable."

With that, Harry stopped. The group saw Laurens nudge the man, coaxing him to keep walking.

William, not one to give up the fight, continued. "I understand that she was cast out of Charles Towne society," he taunted. "And rightfully so. She belongs in a whorehouse."

General Burwell once again stopped in his tracks, turning in an instant back toward Tavington. He stalked back to the redcoat officer with purpose. "I accept your challenge for a duel. Laurens, how about you second me?"

"With honor, sir."

Wilkins spoke up immediately. "I'll be your second, William."

"No- I will," Tarleton trumped.

Wilkins gave the red haired colonel a confused look for it was well known that Tarleton hated duels and did not participate in them.

"I owe it to him," Banastre explained simply. He felt badly at having not been able to repay his monetary debts to William. The least he could do was second him in a duel.

With that, Colonels Laurens and Tarleton broke away from the group for a moment to plan the details of the duel. They decided to use pistols until first blood was drawn. They would meet at Siddons' meadow just outside the city at dawn.

General Burwell decided to leave Tavington with something to think about overnight. He walked up to the tall, redcoat officer and said his peace. "Know this one thing, General. She has her version of our coupling, and I have mine. But make no mistake that one thing is indisputable for I have several witnesses."

Tavington said nothing, letting Burwell "dig his own grave" in Will's eyes.

"Your wife came to orgasm with me, so she obviously enjoyed it," Burwell hissed. "My men heard her groans of pleasure outside of my tent."

Astonishingly, General Tavington kept himself under control. He spoke only to say, "Tomorrow."

~/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/~

The next morning just before dawn, the small group assembled in Siddons' meadow. Majors Wilkins and Hanger stood watching the two generals who stood back to back, through the early morning fog. The two seconds, Colonels Tarleton and Laurens stood by with pistols loaded and ready to shoot should anything happen to the primaries. John Siddons, the owner of the piece of land, began the count off.

The two officers began to walk away from each other. Twenty paces, then they were to turn and fire. On the order, both men turned and fired at virtually the same time with lightning fast speed.

Harry Burwell's shot just missed Tavington, who heard it cut the air, whizzing past his body. William's shot however, hit Burwell in the left arm, knocking the man off his feet and too the ground.

Tavington, the officer still standing after drawing first blood, raised his pistol into the air above his head. "Let all know that 'tis no lie that this officer assaulted my wife."

With that, William walked over to Burwell, who was holding his left arm in pain, still laying on the ground. Tavington knelt down next to the injured man and noticed a dagger in its scabbard on the side of his belt. Remembering what Bordon had told him over a year ago, that Burwell had used his knife handle one of the times he'd raped Melanie, he pulled the knife from the colonial officer's belt.

Burwell, still rocking his body in pain on the ground, managed to whisper to Tavington. "I'll always remember that you raped and ruined my sister."

William said nothing back to the injured man's comment. Instead, he looked intently and curiously at the dagger in his hand.

"Is this the knife you raped my wife with?," he asked Burwell sharply. "You spread her legs and shoved the handle into her womanhood, didn't you?"

When Burwell refused to answer, Tavington rammed it into Burwell's thigh, making the colonial officer scream out in agony. Will quickly pulled it out and threw the weapon to the ground.

"Yankee rubbish!" he spat at the prone rebel general.

~/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/~

**NOTES: **

"Lobster Kettle"- Redcoats were sometimes nicknamed "lobsters" because of the red of their coat as the same color of a cooked lobster (red). Women that slept with redcoats were said "to be making lobster kettles of themselves."

Conestoga: covered wagon

Colonel Burwell, in this story, has received a promotion to General between when he'd had Melanie Prescott Tavington abducted and the Yorktown battle.

Duels: Dueling is a practice done up until the late 19th century for a man's honor. It could be fought in whatever manner was agreed upon and to whatever point. The most common ways gentlemen fought duels were with pistols and swords, to first blood or death. Sometimes the participants would just fire a shot into the air, not aiming at the opponent, knowing that the honor was that they both showed up to something potentially deadly! A "second" in a duel is a person who "backs up" the primary participants, someone chosen to take over in case the primary is injured and can't continue, etc. Usually duels didn't get that far, but there are a few documented cases in which the seconds did continue on with the duel. Duels were against the law in a lot of places, so they were usually fought in some secret, out of the way meadow or field. And usually at Dawn, because the light was low to hide the duel, but also to make it harder to see your opponent.

Colonel Tarleton and Major Hanger on parole in New York after the loss at Yorktown: It is well documented that these two officers had "a swell time" on parole in New York, that they rather loved the city. They drank, gambled, and womanized until they had to get on the ship and return to England.

Banastre Tarleton in real life did abhor the practice of dueling and avoided them when he could.

I don't know that the colonials would have made the British officers who had married colonial women go back to England—with or without their wives—or not. I just added that for dramatic effect to make it more urgent for Tav and Wilky to "break parole" to go home and not be deported.

The bar brawl at the beginning of the chapter is an ode to the old movie "Gunga Din". It is much in the same manner as to where the three main characters of that story in the beginning are involved in a bar fight while someone on the street is asking for them, only to be told "He's busy right now", etc. That truly is a funny scene in that movie!


	71. Chapter 71 Home At Last

Chapter 71 Home At Last

_End of December, 1781….South Carolina_

Melanie Tavington felt particularly sick today. But most of her days recently had been full of sickness with her pregnancy. Now six months along and well in her second trimester, she seemed to be ill more often than not. The young wife tried to keep her food down but ended up throwing a lot of it up, making her worry that the baby wasn't getting enough nutrition.

Even so, she was already large and showing. Many people commented that she looked larger and farther along than most women at six months. This confused Mrs. Tavington, making her wonder if the doctor, combined with her own body, had made a mistake in calculation. She had been told by the midwife that it was possible to have a period still very early on in a pregnancy, near after the conception. Melanie figure that if had miscalculated, the earliest she could be was seven months, possible having become pregnant on her wedding night or shortly after. She could not remember back to her flux in either May or June and if they were a light flow. She'd taken for granted that her womanly functions would never be normal again after she'd lost Alex Bordon's child. Plus the girl had been a new bride at the time, caught up in the bliss of being a newlywed—she wasn't thinking about such things as her bodily functions.

Melanie had spent a lot of the day in bed with her pregnancy illness today, but she had willed herself to get up and attend to things about the house. She had a meeting with Mr. Andrews regarding the plantation business and looked over the books with him. But feeling dizzy again, she spent the last part of their meeting, insisting on finishing it, on the couch, much to the protestations of the trusted farm overseer. When their meeting was done, Mrs. Tavington continued to lie on the sofa in the office with a cool rag on her head, too exhausted at the moment to go upstairs to her room.

In the dim light of the last of the sunset's rays, a figure was spotted walking up the lane of the Tavington Prescott plantation. Diedre the servant, discerned the man as a clergyman, probably looking for shelter for the night.

She let Mrs. Sloane and a few of the other servants within earshot know that a visitor was coming, then made her way into the study. The maid spoke softly to the plantation mistress, who was dozing lightly.

"Mrs. Tavington, there's a priest coming up the lane," Diedre informed.

Always remembering that her late brother was a priest, she especially wanted to extend hospitality to the man.

"Give him dinner, please, and offer him one of the guest rooms," requested Melanie.

"Yes, Ma'am."

After a moment, still feeling sickly, Melanie pushed her pregnant body up off the couch and wrapped the quilt about her. She shouted for Mrs. Sloane to send a light dinner for her up to her room. Mrs. Tavington, exhausted and ill, decided to retire for the evening.

"Mrs. Sloane?" she called a second time when the head housekeeper didn't acknowledge her request the first time. Wondering if the woman had heard her, Melanie made her way out of the study and into the great hall. Across it, she noticed most of her servants and some slaves milling about the windows, doorway, and porch, watching the minister walking up the lane.

She wondered why they were all so interested in the visitor making his way toward the house. The thought crossed her mind that maybe they were seeing an apparition of her late brother Matthew. Mrs. Tavington made her way through the front door to look as well, tightening the quilt about her to shield her from the cold night air.

As the priest drew closer, she recognized the wide brimmed hat, called a saturno, and long black frock as that of a Jesuit, an order her brother was not a part of. Melanie noticed how tall and slender this particular pastor was. And his walk was regal, and seemed familiar to her. But what she noticed the most was a shiny silver flask that the man occasionally sipped from—something that a priest could not afford. She had seen that style of vessel before.

Then it dawned on her. The flask. The familiar walk. The priest raised his head as he neared the porch and looked up at all on it.

"It's William!," Melanie gasped, stepping forward, her breathing hard with excitement.

"General Tavington?", several of the servants whispered amongst themselves, confused at the sight of their master out of uniform and dressed as a minister.

Mrs. Sloane could tell immediately that the mistress had forgotten her delicate condition in the frenzy of her husband's unexpected return. She grabbed the girl's shoulders, preventing her from bolting off the porch.

"Remember your condition," she warned Mrs. Tavington in a murmur. "The baby."

Melanie nodded, barely able to contain her thrill. She felt tears of joy coming to her eyes as the officer neared.

General Tavington ascended the veranda, amused at the stir he had caused. His lips curved into a mischievous smile. About him there was a pensive silence by all, which William broke.

"What's the matter?", he asked. "Haven't you all ever seen a Jesuit priest before; or rather a general disguised as one?"

With that, he took his hat off and handed it to the slave Ezra, who was wide eyed and dumb founded at the master's return. Tavington then turned to his saucer eyed, dumbstruck wife.

"I'm home," he declared simply. The man leaned down and gave her a quick, chaste kiss, puzzling her and all that saw it. She touched her cheek with her hand and kissed him back, softly pushing her tongue into his mouth, silently inviting him to kiss her back in a more passionate way. Instead, he didn't, and she could taste whiskey on his tongue.

"I'm glad you're home safely," she said, wanting him to take her into his arms, confounded that he didn't. "I missed you," she added.

William spoke again to his still mute servants. "I can see you had no idea I was coming."

"We had no word," his wife answered, still so surprised to see him.

Mrs. Sloane took it upon herself as head housekeeper to break the awkwardness and surprise that everyone was feeling. "Welcome home, General Tavington," she greeted with a warm smile.

With that, there was a round of greetings from the servants gathered about. The crowd quickly swallowed the long absent plantation master, shaking hands with him and bowing to the man. They left Melanie behind, still standing in the doorway with the quilt pulled around her.

As she stood there alone and confused, Melanie's mind wondered about things as she watched her husband being received back at home by his loyal servants. He'd seemed cold and distant to her. But moreover, he'd said nothing about her pregnancy. The young wife wasn't sure what was going on, or even what to think.

"Did you receive any of my letters?" asked William, making his way back to his wife.

"The last one we received was dated middle of October," Melanie answered, "in which you spoke of the surrender and possible parole. It arrived in November."

Tavington soon shed the black cassock he wore and threw it to the floor as he explained. "Major Wilkins and I escaped our parole," he said, "traveling as Jesuit priests with a real one and a group of nuns starting a mission in Georgia. Had to play a bloody King's ransom for just that."

William now made his way into the house, wearing regular civilian clothing of a white shirt and black breeches which had been hidden beneath the frock. He continued speaking to all.

"I trust that Mrs. Wilkins has had her child?" he asked.

Diedre answered when none of the others, still mute with surprise, did not. "Yes sir. She had a healthy baby boy on November the first. She named him James Kilpatrick Wilkins."

"Ah, that's splendid," the general answered. "Major Wilkins desired a boy. I'm sure he will be very pleased and happy to see him."

"Mrs. Sloane, please fix dinner for the general," Melanie requested, taking Will by the arm.

"And please send a bottle of wine with it," Will added, "and don't bother with a glass!"

Melanie led her husband toward the in the study, Mrs. Tavington gazed at her husband for a moment, wondering what was bothering him. She was hoping that maybe he was just tired from his long land journey.

"Did you receive any of the letters I sent?" asked Melanie.

"The last one I received was in October in Yorktown camp," he stated. "I believe it was dated the middle of September and spoke of how good a recent wine batch of the Wilkins' winery was."

"Oh, so you don't know."

"Know what?"

Tavington's wife dropped the quilt that she had wrapped about her body to shield her from the Carolina winter cold. She revealed a significantly pregnant belly to her husband, putting her hands on it, caressing the roundness.

"I'm with child," she said softly, and cautiously.

General Tavington stared at her swollen abdomen, confounded. He was dumbstruck, his mind temporarily blank.

When her husband didn't say anything, Melanie spoke up. "The doctor was wrong. I conceived." She smiled tentatively up at her husband.

After another silent moment, feelings about her 'surprise' pregnancy nearly bowled him over. The officer felt a mixture of surprise, confusion, and anger. He did not feel any delight or happiness at all for he was too consumed by heavier feelings and questions.

William felt surprise at the announcement, after over a year of expecting her to be barren the rest of her life. After all, that is what the midwife and doctor that attended her miscarriage predicted. He also felt confusion that this could have happened after months of accepting that he'd never have biological children by Melanie Prescott. He had comforted her through the wake of her disappointment at her inability to provide him with an heir. He had also borne her wrath when she accused him of causing her miscarriage and subsequent infertility.

Worst of all, and unable to help it, he felt angry. He was mad at having to bear her wrath at him for what was now clearly a false diagnosis. He was angered, as well, at what he perceived as being 'blindsided' by the news of her pregnancy after thinking her unable to conceive. All this though it wasn't Melanie' fault that he didn't receive the news earlier in her letters. The general now even felt a bit of suspicion, always recalling in the back of his mind how his wife had formerly been the mistress of his married adjutant.

"So, when were you going to tell me this?," asked William meanly.

"I wrote of it in my letters!" she defended.

"It had better be mine!" he proclaimed snidely.

"It_ is_ yours!" she cried in reply. "I'm six months along. We've been married for seven months. You've been gone five and a half months."

Melanie continued on her tirade. "I haven't been with anyone else! With the way you helped yourself to my body whenever you liked—"

"Alright, woman, I believe you!" William shouted, rubbing his temples. He had a headache, which the alcohol wasn't helping, and only wanted the yelling to cease.

Mrs. Tavington stood quietly, unsure of what else to do or say. After a moment, she spoke up cautiously. "I'm very happy about this, and excited," Melanie remarked in a quiet voice as she looked down at her belly, rubbing it. "Are you pleased?"

William heaved a frustrated sigh, as if this was all a bother to him. "I…I don't know how to feel about it," he answered shortly. "It's a bit of a surprise, really, after thinking that I'd caused you to be barren."

The tired officer took a breath, and turned away from his wife. After some hesitation, he turned back to face her. "I don't know how to feel about it," he stated. "You're going to have to give it time to sink in."

"Mrs. Sloane," he immediately called, changing the cadence of the conversation, leaving Melanie standing and still wondering what to think.

"Yes, sir," she answered breezing into the room.

"Please have my dinner sent in here," Will requested.

"Very good, sir."

"And send Mr. Barnes in to speak with me about the business," he added.

General Tavington sat down at his desk. He then looked up at his wife and addressed her, his tone sounding as if she was just some sort of business associate of his.

"Wait for me upstairs," he directed. "I have a private matter to discuss with you."

Melanie sighed and turned, too tired and sick to keep trying to elicit some kind of a response from him. As she headed out of the room, she muttered, "gladly," in a sarcastic tone under her breath.

Once up in their bedroom, Mrs. Tavington sat down at her dressing table and began to brush her hair. After a few strokes, she stopped and stared at herself in the mirror. Then she burst into tears, crying for a few moments.

William had been home less than fifteen minutes and the two were already arguing again, much like they did last summer before he left. The young wife was also hurt that her husband seemed to disregard the pregnancy, acting not happy to be a father at all. The officer has also just cast her aside downstairs in favor of discussing business with the farm's overseer.

Melanie hoped this wouldn't be permanent between them, that they wouldn't be at each other's throats and playing games as they did last summer, when she was glad for him to leave. The young woman didn't want them to have to live like this forever. Indeed, she hoped it was some sort of phase of readjustment to each other; that it would soon pass.

The girl willed herself to stop crying. She tried to convince herself that he was exhausted after just having traveled a long journey over land. Mrs. Tavington also reminded herself that William had been drinking, as well, which sometimes caused his sharp tongue.

She wiped the tears from her eyes and cheeks. Melanie then rose slowly and walked across the room to the window bed. Sitting down, she looked out the window into the dark Carolina night. The young woman leaned back against the wall and soon began to doze.

The slam of a door woke Mrs. Tavington from her rest. She looked at her husband as he sat down and removed his boot and stockings. Will got up and walked toward her when he was finished.

"I fought a duel in your honor," the general informed, "and for mine and your late lover's, as well."

"What?" a stunned Melanie asked.

"I dueled against General Burwell because he'd ravished you," William declared.

"Oh, no William, I wish you wouldn't have," she moaned. "You could have been killed. Then what would the baby and I do?"

"I won," said the general.

Mrs. Tavington sighed and closed her eyes, sorry that he'd fought the duel. "Did you gain satisfaction?"

"Yes," he answered. "Apparently you did too."

"What?" His wife was confused.

"When you were debriefed after your kidnapping by the rebels," he began, "when you'd informed that you'd been raped, you left out an important detail, which I am sure you did not impart to Alex."

"I told them everything," stated Melanie.

"Hmmm…..truthfully?" Tavington quizzed.

"Yes."

"So you maintain that you were forced?"

"Yes. Why?" she asked.

"Burwell said that you enjoyed it," commented Will.

"What?"

"Apparently, his men heard your cries of pleasure outside of his tent," told General Tavington.

The episode in Burwell's tent suddenly flashed before her eyes. Being thrown on his cot; him inserting the handle of his dagger into her; then ravishing her with his hardness; being tied to the tent pole; the officer's hand under her skirt. Then she remembered how her own body betrayed her; how he taunted her when he made her have an orgasm that she'd tried to stave off.

Melanie felt the heat of embarrassment encapsulate her body, and tears came to her eyes. How could she explain it away?

"No….I," she began tearfully, only to be interrupted by her husband's rough interrogation.

"Did he bring you to completion?" asked the officer in a very serious tone.

"Yes," she replied, bursting into sobs. "I was too ashamed to tell anyone."

"You can tell me," he coaxed, in a voice that implied that she'd better never keep any secrets from him.

"No, please," she pleaded through her tears, not wanting to talk of the horrid experience.

"Now, Melanie!" William demanded. "How?"

"When he had my hands bound to the tent pole," she began, sniffling, "he put his hand under my skirt, then between my legs and he taunted me. I tried to fight—I really did! But the feeling just came over me. I couldn't help it! My body betrayed me. I didn't willingly enjoy it."

"I believe you," said William. "_I've_ broken your resolve and willpower to stave off pleasure _myself_."

Melanie looked down at the floor and away from the general, embarrassed and humiliated that her husband now knew what she considered was a deep, dark secret that she hoped no one would ever learn of. A blush of red heat washed over her from head to toe. Despite her shame, she managed to calm herself and stop weeping.

She watched her husband tensely as he took another drink of wine. Mrs. Tavington knew that something was troubling him to be losing himself in alcohol. As she stood watching him, she felt a wave of nausea from the baby come over her. She grabbed the edge of a nearby table to hold herself up.

William suddenly grabbed his wife's arm. He pulled her body to his and looked down at the unwell girl.

"Now that I am caught up on farm business," Will began, "I can take care of business with you."

"William, I'm not feeling very well," she said, feebly trying to pull her arm from his grip.

Without warning, Tavington's mouth crashed into her kissing her hard. He held her there with her upper arms in a vise grip. She could taste the wine and remnants of whiskey on his tongue.

She mustered the strength somewhere to push out of her husband's clutches. "Really, Will. I've been sick a lot with this pregnancy. I was sick today and still haven't recovered."

"You're my wife and it's been months since we last saw each other," Will admonished.

"But William—"

Tavington did not listen to her protests. "Melanie! Be a good wife, lay down, spread your legs, and welcome me home properly!"

Melanie's head was pounding and her stomach was twisting itself into knots. Why couldn't he just leave her alone, she thought.

William pushed his wife hard toward the bed.

"Don't! William!"

The officer was in no mood for defiance tonight. Taking hold of his wife again, he shoved her back against the wall. Melanie put her hands in front of her belly, protecting the life that dwelt within. Her eyes widened in shock.

"William, please!"

"Melanie, you are not going to make me fight for this tonight, are you?"

Remembering how General Tavington didn't hesitate to beat her last summer when she'd refused his advances, she thought it best to comply. "No, William," she replied meekly, "You may have your way."

With that, Melanie moved toward their bed. At the side of it, she bent herself forward over it.

Tavington studied the girl, ready for him. He did so love the view of a woman from behind and how enticing it was. His lips curved into a smile as he made his way to his wife.

Once there, he quickly pushed her skirt up over her hips, exposing her bare bottom. Equally as fast he tugged his own breeches down.

After positioning himself behind her, he grabbed her hips, steadying her, and holding her there. He drilled his stiff member into her with an unforgiving shove. Grunting as he did, William thrust himself inside her hard and fast.

His insistent pounding into her hurt the poor woman, nearly raw from not being ready and wet for him. She also worried that the roughness might harm the baby.

"Please, Will! Not so hard!," she cried. "Remember the baby!"

"Hmmm….as I recall, early last summer, you used to beg me to fuck you harder."

Not wanting to anger her tipsy husband, Melanie closed her mouth and let Will continue what he was doing. She hoped it wouldn't hurt the baby. The young woman reached forward and grabbed fists full of sheets as her husband continued plowing into her. Mrs. Tavington buried her face in the bed sheets, hiding her tears and muffling her cries as her husband took his pleasure.

After another moment, it was over as William came with a groan. He withdrew from her, then left the room. She could hear him calling for a hot bath down the hallway as she collapsed forward onto the soft bed.

After a moment of laying on the bed, catching her breath, she soon felt the room begin to spin. Melanie managed to push herself up from the bed and traipse across the room to a nearby chamber pot, where she vomited.

When she was finished, she crawled back across the room to her bed. The young wife pulled herself up from the floor and eased her sick and now sore body into the bed. She gathered the covers around her and closed her eyes, glad to finally be alone and resting.


	72. Chapter 72 Domestic Unrest

Chapter 72 Domestic Unrest

_January 1782…._

Melanie sat in the gazebo and sighed, absently rubbing her swollen belly. She looked about the vast lawn which once had been filled with the white hospital tents of the British army for months. The young wife noticed just how bare it looked.

Her life with General Tavington felt just as empty. Indeed she had hoped for the newlywed bliss that she and William had eight months ago, but it wasn't there. She was disappointed and sad. Her husband had been home for a week now and still continued to be cold and distant from her, yet still made her submit to relations with him. And to her own dismay, the thrill of pregnancy was beginning to slip away, as well.

After a few more moments of thinking, she made up her mind. Melanie did not want to go on living like this. She decided that it was worth risking William's wrath to speak her mind about their marriage. She concluded that it was important to voice the concerns, getting them out into the open, even if it did gain her a beating. The hopeful young woman didn't want them to go on living unhappily after knowing that they had once been happy, and maybe could be again.

At least if her words were laid out on the table and nothing changed, then she could go forward after that and decide just what to do.

~/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/~

After dinner that evening, Mrs. Tavington entered the study where she found her husband reading and replying to a stack of personal correspondence. It was from fellow military men who had worried over his sudden disappearance from parole in New York.

The general paid no attention to her for a couple of minutes. He finally looked up at her and spoke.

"What is it?" he asked in an irritated tone.

"Might I speak with you?" she asked nervously.

"Could you make it quick? I've a lot of work to do," he announced with a sigh of bother.

"I must speak my mind about something, Will," began Melanie timidly, "and if you want to punish me for it, then I will accept it."

William put the quill into the inkwell and leaned back from the desk. He crossed his arms in front of him and gave his wife a suspicious stare. The officer was already thinking the worst, already upset with her impertinence.

"When we were first married, things were so loving and blissful between us," Melanie stated, looking into William's azure eyes. "We were happy. We had some disagreements but, we got through them. You even told me that you loved me."

Mrs. Tavington sighed and looked down, then gazed back at Will and went on. "I missed you so much when you were gone. I worried for you. I couldn't wait for you to come home," she said, looking at him with longing and sincerity in her own eyes.

"And when I found that I was carrying your child, I was so happy," she said, a smile crossing her face as she recalled that moment. "I was thrilled to be able to give you an heir!"

She stopped for a moment and turned away, hating to have to be having this conversation with William. Melanie raised her head and looked at the wall. Then she closed her eyes and shook her head.

"But since you have returned," the young woman continued, "you've been cold and distant toward me, even during relations. And you've not shown any happiness about this baby."

Melanie's hands dropped to her abdomen and caressed it, as if comforting a child that had just been snubbed by a parent.

Mrs. Tavington looked up at the ceiling, trying to keep her composure. She knew she had to find the courage to continue speaking, even though she could feel and see Will's ire starting to rise; things had to be said.

"I grew up with parents that loved each other," she said, "and it was apparent. The household was a happy one."

As she spoke, William stayed calm, deciding to listen to all she had to say. The officer, though, would have rather she'd left him alone to get his work done.

"I wanted that for us, as well," his wife lamented. "I want to grow to love you, but you are pushing me away with your actions."

William heaved a heavy sigh at this and looked accusingly at his wife. He held his tongue though he wanted to reprimand her for her insolence and the bother of it.

"And the way you force me to submit to you," she said, feeling frightened that his calm demeanor might break at any moment now, "and when you threaten me if I refuse and punish me if I don't."

Tavington was doing well to keep in control_. How dare she even challenge me about her wifely duties, he thought._

Melanie knew this would anger him since he was so adamant about a wife's duty to her husband, but she pressed on, swallowing her fear. The girl tried to appeal to him with words that would affirm him. "William, you are very handsome, a good lover and so virile. And I know it is your right as a husband to have me whenever you please. I just wish that you could be more understanding with me if I refuse you when I am sick. Please know that I have been sick frequently with this pregnancy."

The young woman forced herself to look into General Tavington's eyes, hoping she might find some reprieve in them. Melanie kept on speaking, hoping that her husband would show mercy after she'd finished. "William, you have told me that as an officer, that you usually don't have the luxury of time to think before you act and react about the results of those actions. I can imagine that it must be hard to adjust from your military life on duty to life at home off duty."

Melanie paused for a moment, trying to find the correct, yet most gentle words. She spoke the words slowly and cautiously. "I just wish that at home, for us, that you would take a moment to think about the possible implications of the actions you choose."

Mrs. Tavington watched as the officer's face hardened, his lips drawing tightly together. She feared that she would be beaten when she stopped talking, but remembered that she'd decided it was better to have the concerns in the open even if it meant punishment, then to go on living unhappily without saying anything at all.

Melanie took a deep breath, hoping to find just a little more courage to forge on, and take her punishment when she was through. "William, I don't want us to end up hating each other. We are married until death, and that can be a long, lonely time to live with someone that you hate."

The young woman had one more thing to say; to tell him, and it was the hardest of all. She hoped that she wouldn't cry when she said it, and sighed, trying to keep her own composure.

"But since you've been home," she spoke cautiously, "while I am still happy to be with child, I am starting to feel sorry that you are the father; that it's your child."

She choked up, but held back the tears as she concluded. "And I hate feeling like that. I don't want to feel that way."

William stood and heaved a sigh. He was quiet for a moment, staring at his wife. Mrs. Tavington looked up at his tall frame and tried to brace herself inside, thinking that a beating was imminent.

"Melanie," began General Tavington, "I have spent the last fourteen years of my life in service to the Crown's Cavalry. Seven of those years have been away from home amidst hostile rebels. I have risked my life for king and country doing my duty. I was injured severely and have had to end my career as a General on a horse on the back lines of the battlefield sending others to do what I physically can't; what I used to enjoy doing. I saw good men die around me."

Will stopped to take a breath after his short proclamation. He went on. "All that sacrifice for what? For Earl Cornwallis to surrender!"

Tavington narrowed his eyes at his wife, feeling the need focus his anger in_ some _direction. The officer continued. "I was humiliated! I was made to accompany General O'Hara in Lord Cornwallis' stead to the surrender ceremony. And although I held my head high, it was still very shameful. I would have rather had gone to the gallows."

Melanie kept quiet. She was trying to listen to him and be sympathetic. His young wife could not altogether understand why her husband was still so upset over something that had happened three months ago. It was not his fault. She knew he would have never surrendered. She understood and witnessed with her own eyes that he was a fierce warrior, fighting with pride.

"When this war is written about in the future," Tavington went on, "I won't be remembered as a hero. I'll be 'Tavington the Carolina Butcher'. I won't be 'Tavington the victorious hero'. I will be recalled as 'Tavington the disgraced General'. You have no idea what loss and surrender does to a military leader."

Mrs. Tavington walked toward her husband. "William—"

"I'm disgraced, Melanie," he stated. "I have nothing."

She knew that he was referring to his reputation, but probably feeling as though he didn't have much else, either. She spoke up.

"You have a plantation and a successful business," she pointed out. Melanie's hand dropped to her pregnant belly and began to caress it. "You have an heir forthcoming. And you have me."

William looked sharply at her. He knew that she wouldn't understand what all this meant to him as an officer. "Yes, I have you, a woman of wealth and privilege; a spoiled girl who has never wanted for anything."

Melanie took a step back, stunned at Will's words. "That's not fair! I_ have_ suffered loss—"

"Do you know how many women would like to be in your shoes—or your bed with me?" asked William. To him, he felt as if she was tired of being a wife—his wife.

William burned inside, as well. His thoughts about his wife were swirling. _How dare she say all this! She has so much more than others have during this time of war and yet she demands more! I cannot believe her insolence. Didn't she learn her lesson after I punished her for her defiance last summer? Good lord, how many beatings does it take?_

General Tavington narrowed his eyes at her accusingly. "You have all this yet you want more! You have me and you want even more from me!"

"No! William I—"

He cut her off, wanting her to feel threatened. "You know how good of a lover I am, and so do many others. There is no shortage of women who desire a wealthy man, able to satisfy them, in their beds."

"Will, what are you saying?" Melanie asked in fear.

"If you can't or won't perform your wifely duties without complaint and if you can't live with me without demands," he shouted, "then I will find a woman who will!"

With that, an angry General Tavington stormed from the office. He grabbed his long red uniform coat on the way out, throwing it on as he made his way off the porch and down the steps.

Melanie chased him as far as the front door, yelling after him. "Will please! Please don't leave!"

She watched him on his horse bolt from the barn and tear down the lane away from the house. The young woman, hanging onto the doorframe, felt a sudden pain in her middle, then another a few seconds later. Mrs. Tavington's knees soon buckled and she collapsed. Feeling sick she leaned forward and threw up.

Afterwards, she pulled her knees to her chest and began to rock herself. She began crying pitifully. "What have I done? What have I done?"

Mrs. Sloane was nearby. She had heard the raised voices and assumed correctly that the master and mistress were fighting. The faithful housekeeper had then seen the general storm out of the house and leave on horseback. The older woman ran to Melanie's aid at the door.

"Mrs. Tavington?" Mrs. Sloane called as she knelt. "Mrs. Tavington?"

Melanie looked up in shame at the woman. "I'm afraid I've messed up the floor," she wept.

"We'll tend to it," the understanding older woman said. "Are you still having pains?"

"No, they're gone now," Mrs. Tavington answered.

"You have got to calm down. You're making yourself sick," Mrs. Sloan remarked, "You can't have these worries in your delicate state."

The housekeeper helped the mistress gently to standing, continuing to speak as she did. "I know that the two of you quarreled. And men, in anger often do rash things. He will come home. But for now, you must try not to worry of this."

Mrs. Sloane looked about for one of the other servants. "Diedre, would you please see to this? Mrs. Tavington is ill. I'm going to help her to bed."

About that time, Mr. Barnes entered the room. "What's the commotion? I just saw the General ride off in a hurry."

"The mistress is sick. Please send for the doctor or the midwife."

~/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/~

Within a couple of hours the midwife had arrived and checked on Melanie, who turned out to be fine. The woman explained that worry could bring on pain and vomiting while in that condition. The girl was stoic during her exam, but went back to worrying after everyone had left.

Mrs. Tavington waited a few minutes, then got out of bed after having been instructed to stay in it and rest for awhile. She crept lightly across the floor to her dressing table where she then sat. Opening her jewelry box, she found the familiar lock of strawberry blonde hair tied to the ring Alexander Bordon had given her. The young woman brought the hair to her nose and could still smell the faint scent of her lover on it.

Melanie looked sorrowfully at the ring and the hair, sighed and closed her eyes. She felt tears starting to well up when she remembered that it had been just a little over a year since Alex had died. She wondered why things had turned out the way they had. _Why did Alex have to die? Why had she married William—a man she didn't love? Why couldn't her marriage be loving just like her parents' had been?_

After another moment, her thoughts drifted farther. _If Alex was alive, he and I would be living together now, just as if we were married. But we wouldn't be living here—there would be too much scandal. He loved me. Would I have the same heartache living with him as I do William? Where would we have lived and made a life together since we couldn't be married? What would Alex do for a living after the war, after his discharge as a military leader? Would he be happy doing something civilian?_

The young wife recalled that Alexander was such a fierce warrior, just like William. Alex would have taken the defeat of the British just as hard. With his temper, he may have been unbearable to live with for awhile if he didn't have the regimented life of the military.

It finally hit her that being the proud, brave, and strong officer that William was, that this loss had been a heavy cross for him to carry. And she realized that with defeat, and with a business and wife now here in the colonies, that he would not be returning to England. And with that, he was facing imminent discharge or resignation of his commission. She closed her eyes and sighed, recognizing that William was apprehensive, though he would never admit it, about now having to live life as a civilian, something he hadn't done since he was in his teens. And she knew now that after so many years of the army, fighting, and leading his men, that this was going to be a hard adjustment for the proud general.

The girl gazed at Bordon's mementoes for another moment, then carefully tucked them back away at their rightful place in the back of her jewelry box drawer. Melanie looked forlornly at herself in the mirror and shook her head._ How could I have been so selfish, she asked herself. William, hard pressed to admit that he needed anything, needed my consolation and all I could do was ask him to give more than he was able to at the moment. What kind of a wife am I?_ Not wanting to look herself in the eye anymore, she pushed herself away from her vanity table and padded softly back over to her bed and slid beneath the covers.

Melanie then turned over and buried her face in her pillow and cried. She did not regret that she had spoke of what she wanted from their marriage, but was sorry that she hadn't been sympathetic immediately to her husband's feelings of humiliation. The young woman hoped that she hadn't driven him away for good—or into the arms of a mistress.


	73. Chapter 73 Understanding

Chapter 73 Understanding 

General Tavington lifted his head from the pillow and looked down. The officer let out a groan of pleasure, feeling near completion. He then buried his hand in the mass of thick, blonde curls, gently lifted her head and pulled his erection out of the whore's mouth.

William turned the pretty strumpet onto her back on the bed and roughly kneed her legs apart. With his body over hers, he took one of her dark rosy nipples into his mouth as he slid his finger into her to see if she was wet for him. Pleased, he moved his finger in and out of her slickness. The trollop sighed and arched her back.

"Oh, General, put your cock inside me," she purred.

Tavington withdrew his digit from her. He then pinned her arms down on the pillow above her head and sank his hardness into her. After a moment of slow thrusts, he then began to ram himself harder into her, wanting satisfaction soon.

Feeling her body beneath him, William closed his eyes. He couldn't help but imagine and long that it was his beautiful wife writhing under him. In his thoughts he daydreamed that it was Melanie below him, receiving him greedily. He could hear her voice in his mind begging him to fuck her harder; deeper.

He reached forward and grabbed the headboard, heaving himself into the harlot below him as hard as he could. Soon she began to moan and an instant later William came, as well.

Forgetting himself and where he was, he groaned, "Melanie! Oh God!"

As he opened his eyes, he remembered that he was in the brothel just outside the village.

William breathed a disappointed sigh as he rolled his body off the beauty beneath him, sorry that it wasn't Melanie. The girl turned onto her side and closed her eyes as William poured himself some more wine. He arranged his pillow against the headboard, reclining back against it as he relaxed and sipped his wine.

The general closed his eyes but couldn't seem to drift to sleep. The bawdy house was loud and raucous tonight, making him long for quieter surroundings. In another moment, he heard a loud thump and a crash in the hallway, sounding like it was just outside his door. He opened his eyes and looked at the strumpet in the bed next to him , envious that she could doze through all the din. Irritated, he got up and crossed the room to the door. The officer opened it to check what the problem was. He spied a sick looking doxy on the floor and another whore hurriedly cleaning the area up around her lest the madam see them.

An aggravated Will wanted to tell them to stop making so much noise. He didn't though, biting his tongue as he could see that the fall was most likely an accident. Tavington stood at the door stretching his slender, breeches only clad body. He left the door open because he was debating whether to go get another bottle of wine or not.

"Abigail, what happened," the whore said to her friend who was on the floor. "You don't look well at all."

"I'm not, Priscilla," she answered, looking up at her friend who was setting the small hallway table back upright. "I was lightheaded. I lost my balance and fell."

Suddenly, the doxy named Abigail turned a shade of a sickly green. "Oh no," she cried, "I'm going to vomit."

A quick thinking Priscilla grabbed the thick porcelain basin, which fortunately hadn't broken in the fall, from the floor. She pushed it to her sick friend.

Abigail promptly threw up into the bowl. After a moment, she sat back and wiped her mouth. Priscilla, having set everything back up the way it was, knelt by her friend.

"What are you doing working here in your condition?" she asked the sick harlot.

"My husband made me," she replied. "I told him I was sick. He says we need the money."

"You could do something else for work," Priscilla pointed out.

"What am I going to do," Abigail wailed, "I can barely feed the two children I have now. A third baby to feed will be worse. I don't want this child."

Priscilla gasped. "He makes you work here?"

"Yes," answered Abigail, "He will beat me if I don't bring home money."

The two whores were completely unaware that one of the customers, General Tavington, was standing in the doorway hearing everything they had to say. William said nothing but shook his head in disdain. Although he patronized prostitutes, he would never court one. The elitist in him always reminded him that they were of the working class and lower than he and his family on the ladder of society. He continued listening to the whining bawdies.

"Oh Priscilla, what am I going to do here when my belly gets bigger?" Abigail wondered. "No man will want to lie with a pregnant whore."

William grew tired of listening to the women prattle and closed the door. He thought that the whore's husband was low class Yankee rubbish making his pregnant and sick wife work on her back in a brothel. He sniffed in derision as he walked back toward the bed, thinking that not only money separated the classes, but how they acted and conducted themselves did, as well.

At the bed, General Tavington woke the sleeping harlot up and paid her as he got dressed. Even though he'd gone there for some female companionship and a good tumble, he grew tired quickly of the low class and ill manners surrounding him. After leaving the doxy den, he mounted his horse and rode the short distance back into the village and was relieved to see the inn that stood at the edge of the village. It was clean, reputable, and quiet, and he was looking forward to a peaceful sleep.

Will checked in for the night. Once in his room, he stripped to his breeches and laid down between the soft, clean sheets. He let out a sigh and closed his eyes.

After nearly an hour of tossing and turning, the officer opened his eyes and laid awake in the dark. He wished he could fall asleep, but he couldn't seem to quiet his wandering mind.

He was still angry with Melanie for her insolence, yet he strangely respected her for being bold enough to speak with him about the situation between them and he own wants and needs. He did admire that she was so honest with him. Tavington also thought his wife brave for saying that she would accept a beating from him is he thought her defiant.

William was secretly relieved, though, that she hadn't chastised him in front of anyone. He had seen her speak her mind to Bordon on occasion in the presence of others. He was glad that she had been discreet.

His mind kept skipping back to Melanie's statement that her parents' marriage was happy and loving and that as a child, she noticed it. His own upbringing had been different. Will's mother had brought him up mostly alone and well, since his father was always too busy with business or unwholesome activities. The general's father, despite being rich and in a higher class of society, led a life of debauchery and scandal, acting much like a low class heathen. His parents grew to hate one another and Tavington witnessed his father treat his mother horribly.

He remembered that his mother was not sad when his father died, and didn't mourn his passing, rather, she was relieved that he was gone for good.

General Tavington found himself thinking of his beautiful wife again. He cursed himself for it, wishing he could put Melanie out of his mind for just one night. He recalled how lovely she looked on their wedding day. Lately she looked so sick and tired, and he knew she was hiding tears from him when he'd have his way with her.

Since he'd returned home, he had seen for himself that his wife had been sick frequently, sometimes rising in the middle of the night to throw up. And though she still submitted to him and he sated himself with her body, it felt empty lately. William wanted her to receive him enthusiastically; to respond to his touch. He much preferred her to act as a wild animal in need of him rather than to lie quiet and still like a cold fish. Tavington also wanted and needed to hear her voice calling his name out in orgasm. He loved hearing her beg him not to stop, pleading with him for more. That made him feel like he could give her the pleasure that no other man could.

Then his mind drifted back to the pregnant prostitute from just hours before back at the bawdy house. Will sighed and closed his eyes. He remembered the girl lamenting about being made to work on her back while pregnant and sick. William thought it shameful of her Yankee rubbish husband to make her do it. But then, he had done practically the same to his own wife by making her submit to relations to him when she wasn't up to it. A sick feeling hit Tavington, understanding that his actions, which he always supposed were those of a member of the upper class, were actually no better than the low class Yankee rubbish he had turned his own nose up at.

Lastly, William thought about the whore he'd lain with earlier that night. She was blonde and ethereal looking with curly hair. A woman he'd been with in the Yorktown camp, another curvy blonde with wavy hair. It occurred to him that when he chose prostitutes, he seemed to routinely choose ones that looked like Melanie. Even when he tried to get away and forget her, he could not.

General Tavington turned onto his side and pulled the covers back up. He closed his eyes and vowed to fall asleep, preferring to think about the situation at home in the morning. Perhaps sleep would make him look at it with a fresh mind.

The officer loved Melanie still, whether she was defiant or compliant. He was certain of one thing: he did love his wife and knew he had to go home to her.

~/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/~

It was dark the next evening when General Tavington rode back onto the plantation. He sighed as he came through the front door, glad to be home.

Mrs. Sloane was in the main gallery working when he entered. "Good evening, General," she called. "Would you like dinner?"

"No, thank you," he answered as he took off his gloves. "Where's Mrs. Tavington? I need to speak with her?"

"In the bedroom, sir."

Diedre the maid was at the top of the stairway when she'd seen the master return. She headed down the hallway toward the main bedroom.

In there, Melanie sat on the window bed staring out over the darkened fields of the plantation. She wondered if Will would be coming home tonight. The girl also wondered where he'd spent the night. Despite the fact that he had been less than cordial to her since his return, she had missed him last night and hoped that he would come home.

Just then, a hard kick from inside her belly brought her out of her reverie. Her hand dropped instinctively to that spot and caressed it, soothing the infant within.

"I know, little one," she said softly, "I hope daddy comes home, too."

Then there was a knock at the bedroom door. Melanie looked up to see Diedre peaking inside.

"The general has returned," she announced.

"Thank you," Mrs. Tavington answered, forcing a nervous smile. Immediately she became apprehensive, not sure if her husband had been drinking or still angry; not knowing what to expect.

She felt another soft flutter of a kick again. The woman put her hand back on her swollen abdomen and gently rubbed at the spot, trying to quiet the baby.

"Don't worry, darling," she cooed, "Everything will be fine." Melanie hoped that William wouldn't punish her for her 'impertinence'. And if he did, that it wouldn't harm the child.

After a few more moments, General Tavington entered the bedroom without a word. Melanie looked up at him and the two locked eyes for an instant.

"William," she said quietly trying to hide the fear in her voice.

He nodded in acknowledgement as he began undoing the cravat from around his neck. The air seemed heavy between them. Both kept silent.

After a minute more of this, Melanie pushed her heavily pregnant body up from the window seat and crossed the room to where William stood taking his uniform jacket off.

She lowered her head in front of him and looked down. "If you must beat me, please do now—quickly—and get it over with." Then the girl closed her eyes, trying to prepare herself.

William let out a sigh as he threw his jacket over a nearby chair. He stretched his arm out and gently took her chin in his hand. The officer raised her head up to look at him.

"I'm not going to beat you," he informed. "Go. Sit back down. You don't need to be on your feet in your condition."

Amazed and relieved, she walked slowly across the room to the window seat. Once there, she was stunned to find that Will had followed her over. He took her elbow in his hand and helped her to sit again, easing her down.

William began unbuttoning his vest as he crossed the room back to where he was. In a moment, the uniform was gone save for the white linen shirt and black breeches. He unbuttoned the neck of his shirt as he made his way over to where his wife sat at the window.

"May I join you?" he asked.

"Please," she answered, motioning to the seat beside her.

Once both seated now, an awkward silence passed between the two. Again, unable to stand the tense air between them, Melanie broke the silence.

"William," she began slowly, "I need to apologize for the other night."

"You needn't apologize for speaking your mind about a concern," Will stated.

His wife was taken aback for a moment. When she regained her bearing, she spoke again.

"No, that's just it. I was selfish," she said. "I talked only of myself and what I wanted and thought nothing of your needs."

Tavington kept quiet, listening to his wife. "Your whole adult life, you have been a soldier. And now that the war is over, the British army will be leaving to go home. And you are married to a colonial, have a plantation and business here and can't return home. That means that you will either be resigning your commission or will be discharged."

She leaned forward and covered his hand with hers. "I can only imagine that it will be hard for you not being able to be a soldier anymore. I know that you loved the cavalry. It may be quite an adjustment."

Melanie sighed then continued on. "I am so sorry, William. What can I do to help you with it?" She looked into his eyes, her own so full of sincerity and sorrow.

Will's heart was moved by her humble words. He was quiet for a moment, then spoke. "Just stand by my side," he said. "And be patient if I keep acting impulsively. I will try to slow down now, since I can, and think about the results of my actions. And if I try to run the house and farm in a militaristic fashion, then remind me that I'm no longer an officer."

"But Will, you are still a leader of sorts," Melanie offered. "You are the head of the household….and will be of our family." She smiled at him, then looked down at her belly which she caressed.

"You're still needed to lead this plantation and the business," she pointed out.

"Yes, I will do that," William responded.

The general sighed, then looked at his wife. "Melanie, since I have returned, I have seen how sick you have been while carrying this child. I am not going to make you submit to me anymore when you are ill; it serves no purpose for either of us."

"I don't want us to hate each other," the officer continued. "My mother and father grew to hate each other. Father treated mother horribly. And I saw all this while I was growing up. When father passed away, my mother wasn't sad; she was relieved. She didn't grieve for him at all."

Will paused and looked down. Then he stared up at the ceiling, shaking his head. "If I should die before you, I'd like for you to at least be sad and mourn my passing."

The general stopped speaking and looked at Melanie's swollen belly. He went on. "I don't want our child to grow up like I did: seeing parents that hate each other."

"I don't want us to hate each other, either," said Mrs. Tavington.

There was another moment of quiet that passed between the two. Tears suddenly welled up in Melanie's eyes.

"I'm so glad you're home, William," she said as she burst into tears.

Her husband pulled her close to him, slipping his arms around her. Melanie buried her face in his shoulder. "I worried for you every day. I was afraid our child wouldn't know his father."

As she settled a bit, he raised her face to his with his finger. "What I told you in the carriage last summer is still true. I love you, Melanie."

His mouth then claimed hers in a slow, soft kiss. After the kiss, the two held each other for a moment. Tavington then murmured into his wife's ear. "I'm pleased that I will have an heir."

Melanie pulled back from the embrace and looked at her husband, a look of happiness on her face. Before she could say anything, he spoke again.

"And I'm concerned for you because you are so sick," he said. "When did you know that you were pregnant?"

"Last summer," she answered. "The Carolina heat which I've known all my life seemed worse than it had ever been. I kept becoming ill. I fainted a lot. I finally saw a doctor and I thought the worst. I was sure that I had Malaria."

She chuckled lightly then went on. "I'd missed monthlies but was told that I couldn't conceive, so I didn't think I could be pregnant. The doctor said that there was a chance I could miscarry again and that I should be careful and rest."

William took her hand in his. "Do you feel it move yet?"

"All the time, Will," she said with a huge smile. "He moves so much. He is so busy."

"He?" asked William.

"Yes! I think we are having a boy, William," she beamed. Melanie then gasped and straightened a little. "Oh, that one was hard."

"What?" asked the general, looking alarmed. His wife put his hand on her pregnant belly.

"He just kicked," she said. "Do you feel it?"

The officer felt a thump against his hand. Will smiled and placed his other hand on her abdomen.

"My child," he said with a grin. "He is strong, isn't he?"

Melanie nodded with a smile and tears in her eyes again. William helped her to her feet and pulled her to the center of the room. Once again he slipped his arms around her and took her lips in a devastating kiss.

His lips moved along her jawline to her ear, where he kissed the shell of it. He whispered to her. "I want to see your pregnant body naked."

Since he had been home, their couplings had been quick, consisting only of Melanie laying bent over the bed while still in her clothes, with Will lifting her skirt enough to take her from behind. The girl was a little afraid for William to see her once curvy body with a large, pregnant belly now.

Will could sense her apprehensiveness, but longed to see her body anyway. "Melanie, please," he murmured. "I'll be naked as well."

Melanie pulled away from her husband. She turned away and began to slip her robe off. Then she let the chemise drop to the floor. In the mirror nearby she caught a glimpse of her nude body, belly protruding.

She turned back to face William finding him already naked. The girl was amazed to see him very aroused, a perfect, hard erection jutting out from his body.

Will walked to his wife who was nervously covering her breasts with one arm and trying to hide her swollen belly with the other. He took her arms and pulled them down away from what she was covering modestly. "Come now, darling," he whispered. "Let me look at you."

The officer stepped back and looked at his wife's pregnant body. Melanie, feeling self conscious, apologized. "I'm afraid I don't have my curvy, girlish figure anymore."

Tavington stepped toward her again, pulling her close to him. He wrapped his arms about her, reveling in feeling her naked body again next to his after all those months apart. His mouth took hers again in a slow, deep kiss. Then he whispered against them, "You're beautiful, darling. I love you."

At that moment, Melanie wanted nothing else then to be in bed naked with William. She wanted him to hold her; to make love to her. The girl reached down and took his hardness in her hand. She stroked its length as she kissed him, loving hearing the low moans from him. After another moment of this, he reached down and grabbed her wrist, squeezing it slightly, stopping her.

"Melanie…."

"Take me, William," she murmured. "I want you."

With that he moved her toward their bed. The officer sat her down on the edge of it, then gently laid her torso backwards, her legs hanging off the edge. William bent his tall body down over hers, a hand on either side of her body holding him up. He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her deeply, then trailed it down her throat to her chest. His mouth took one of her pink nipples into it, sucking it, making a low moan escape her lips. The girl arched up into his kisses, pushing herself farther into his mouth.

After a moment of his lips on her nipples, he stood up right. Then Melanie watched as he knelt between her legs which dangled off the side of the bed. She sighed loudly when she felt his mouth nibbling the insides of her thighs, torturing her. She closed her eyes and let her head sink back into the bed as she felt his mouth moving ever closer up those thighs, nearer to her femininity.

Melanie sucked in a sharp breath when she felt her husband's tongue on her womanhood. She cooed softly as his tongue traced the outer folds of skin. "Oh…Will…please," she begged.

He knew what she wanted.

In an instant, she gasped when she felt William's deft tongue burrowing into her moist quim, reacquainting itself with her female anatomy after months of being away. She arched her back when his tongue touched her pearl. After a few gentle strokes on it, he began to lick her more quickly, lapping hungrily at her. She soon began to writhe under his expert touch.

"Oh…I'm coming…William…I'm coming!" she moaned as she felt her orgasm.

He stood, then joined her on the bed and she scooted her body back to laying properly on the thing. The two slid into each other's arms while lying facing one another on their sides, holding each other as close as her pregnant belly would allow. As they kissed, her hand once again found Will's hardened member and began to stroke it slowly and sensually.

"Melanie," he groaned as he stopped her hand again. With that, he gently turned her away from him so that she was lying on her left side. He moved in behind her, spooning the woman. William kissed the back of her neck and shoulders as he laced his right hand into her right one.

Tavington let go of her hand and slid it between her legs, lifting her right leg up a little. He positioned himself from behind at her moist opening, then gently inserted himself, groaning as he did. William pumped into her, all the while kissing her shoulders and neck. Melanie reached back and found his right hand again, lacing her fingers into his, clasping it tightly on her hip as he pushed and swerved in her.

Will could feel himself getting close to his pleasure. He slipped his hand out of hers and snaked it over her hip to the front of her thighs. Melanie gasped when she felt his fingers slip in between her legs. Soon she was writhing again, his finger massaging her hardened little bud, still sensitive from his tongue's assault of moments ago.

The girl found herself close to the edge again, pleased to feel a second orgasm. "Oh William," she cried, "you're going to make me come again!"

"Good," he murmured. After another moment of this they both came together, calling each others names.

William wrapped Melanie in his arms, spooning her as they slept. His hand rested on her swollen belly throughout the night.


	74. Chapter 74 Meeting The Past

Chapter 74 Meeting The Past

Mrs. Tavington's eyelids fluttered open, looking at the spot usually occupied by her husband in their bed. She was disappointed that she hadn't awakened in his arms this morning, yet grateful at having awakened feeling well rested. She turned over on to her back, yawned, then stretched.

Laying there quietly for a moment, Melanie smiled as she thought about the last two weeks of married life. Since the evening that she and Will had come to an understanding of what they both wanted and needed from each other, life, and marriage, their time together had been complete bliss. The young woman even thought she felt happier now than months ago when they first were married.

Indeed, their couplings had been randy and romantic. And on the two occasions that Melanie had been too sick with the pregnancy to have relations, William had respected that and let her rest. There were even a couple of occasions where she had felt sick, but wanted her husband so badly that the lust overtook the sickness and allowed her a few moments of romance with Will.

The girl swung her legs over the side of the bed. Seeing that they were bare, she giggled at remembering that she was naked. Then she blushed furiously, recalling their coupling last night. The couple had been having fun many of the nights of the last two weeks finding different positions in which to accommodate a greatly pregnant belly during relations.

The young wife washed up and began to dress. As she did, she thought about how thankful she was that William and Major Wilkins did not get into any serious trouble for escaping probation to come home. Both had been hastily pardoned when they showed up at Camden to admit their escape. The Generals in power had received word that they would have to start paring down British forces in South Carolina as part of the Yorktown surrender agreement, so they were likely to be discharged by the Spring anyway. And at this point, no one was going to put up a huge fuss over two officers that had broken a parole agreement.

Melanie carefully descended the stairway not wanting to risk a fall at this late stage in her pregnancy. Her eyes scanned the great room, looking for William.

"You're awake, Madam," Diedre called from across the room. "Would you like something to eat?"

"Just something light, please," Melanie answered as she crossed the floor. "Thank you." _I'll probably end up throwing it all back up anyway, she thought to herself._

Melanie walked to the office where she found General Tavington at his desk writing. "I missed you this morning," she said quietly from the doorway. "I thought we would have time to lie together in bed this morning."

The officer looked up from his work. "I awoke early and couldn't get back to sleep. I rode the plantation this morning then met with Mr. Andrews."

William got up from his desk and walked around to the front of it. There he embraced his wife and kissed her, his hand dropping to rest on her swollen belly. "You and the child need your sleep."

Melanie slipped from his grasp, looking back to smile coyly at her husband. Then she turned away from him. "Well, I just wanted some time alone with you this morning. We won't have a lot of that once the baby is born."

The general came up behind her and slid his arms around her, her head tucked under his. From there, both hands slipped down to her abdomen and rubbed it. He kissed her neck, then his lips went to her ear. "Can you wait until late this afternoon?," he murmured. "I have to go down and work on something in the mill. I'll stop early and we can spend the last of the afternoon and the evening together."

"Mmmm…..that sounds nice," whispered Mrs. Tavington with a smile.

Just then a knock on the doorframe interrupted their interlude. "General," Diedre said with a curtsy, "A messenger just brought this." The servant handed the letter to the officer.

Tavington read the short letter to himself, then frowned. Melanie watched as he read it again, then moved to his desk.

"What is it, Will?"

He didn't answer. The officer starting looking through a satchel near his desk trying to find something. His wife began to worry.

"William?" she tried to get his attention, her voice clearly frightened.

"It's nothing, Melanie. We'll speak in a minute. I just need to find…," Tavington's voice trailed off as he opened a large map on his desk.

The young woman sat down in the chair on the other side of the desk and waited, watching her husband intently. She gazed at him as he looked intently at the map spread on his desk, his index finger moving across it trying to find a point.

He sat down and wrote out some distances. The officer sighed, put his elbow on the desk then rested his chin in his hand. Tavington, looking down still, looked as if he was trying to recall something.

A patient Melanie sat, gazing at her husband. She hoped that he hadn't been recalled to duty so soon, especially with the birth of their child six weeks away. As she sat, the baby within her belly began kicking and moving, as if it could sense the mother's apprehension. Mrs. Tavington's hands went to her stomach.

"It's alright, darling," Melanie said, looking down at her pregnant belly. She caressed it trying to soothe the child within.

That got Will's attention, making him look up at Melanie. He dropped what he was doing and came around the desk in concern. "What's the matter?" asked the General, kneeling in front of his wife.

Mrs. Tavington rolled her eyes and smiled. "Oh…it's fine, Will. He's awake now and kicking furiously."

William placed his hand on his wife's abdomen and felt the child kicking and punching busily. "He is quite playful this morning, isn't he?" Will commented.

He began to rub his wife's belly gently. "There, there," he said, "All's well."

Melanie smiled at her husband and felt engulfed in a warm feeling, as if she was well protected. She now felt that he would be a good father—much better than his own father was to him.

The baby kicked a few more seconds then settled down. Melanie and William smiled at one another, amazed that the child had become quiet at their urgings.

"You've been home three weeks and he knows your voice already," Mrs. Tavington remarked. "He knows his papa."

Mrs. Tavington hooked her right hand around her husband's neck and pulled his face up to hers. She gave him a soft, loving kiss. "William," she whispered lovingly.

With that, the general stood up. "Well, I've just made a decision."

"About what?" asked Melanie.

"The letter," began General Tavington, "I've been called back to duty—"

"William!" Melanie exclaimed, her hands covering her mouth.

"It's a short assignment," he said, trying to sooth his wife before she got more upset. "It's administrative, not combat."

He saw his wife breathe a sigh of relief and continued on. "I have to go decommission Magnolia Camp. It's part of the agreement to move our troops out of the colonies."

"I see," she answered.

"I have to do that, then report to Camden for a meeting," he informed. "I'll be gone three to four days."

Inside, Melanie was disappointed. William had only been home three weeks and now he was leaving again. She knew full well from back when she was with Alexander, that three to four nights would sometimes turn into a week or more depending on circumstances and situations. But she kept it inside trying to be stoic, as she had agreed to support Will and stand by his side.

With his wife quiet, he knew something was wrong. "I know you're upset about this Melanie."

She took a breath and composed herself. "Yes, but I swore to support you so I will not raise a fuss about this. But, I don't think I am out of line to admit that I will miss you while you're gone, even though it won't be for that long."

"Well, I can remedy that," William said as he pulled Mrs. Tavington to her feet and into his arms. "Why don't you come with me? I won't ride. We can take the coach. I just don't want to leave you again, even for just a few days, after having been gone for months. Can you travel?"

"Oh Will, I want to go with you," she answered. "I don't see why I can't travel. We're not going to be gone very long. And as long as we are near towns and villages in case anything should happen."

"Everything will be fine," Will said. "We will stay at the Inn in the village."

"When do we leave?" she asked.

"Tomorrow morning."

"I'll pack a few things for us."

~/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/~

The next morning, the Tavingtons set off for Magnolia Camp. It didn't take long after their departure for a sleepy Melanie to rest her head on her husband's shoulder and fall asleep. As she slept, Will tried recalling as much of this camp as he could.

Magnolia Camp had been built just outside of the small village of Magnolia, South Carolina. It was about halfway between Charles Towne and Camden on a road that wasn't considered a main thoroughfare, so the village remained small. It was started by the British a few years ago as a hospital camp, then it had grown into a small, semi permanent encampment. The British had hopes of turning it into a fort but couldn't build it due to the war and men needed to fight.

This particular camp was also the encampment in which Tavington and Melanie, along with Bordon's body, had been brought to after the ambush at the creek. The cemetery at the edge of the village had been expanded with war dead. Major Alexander Bordon lay at rest there.

Will wondered how Melanie would hold up being in the camp where she last laid eyes on Bordon, which was his dead body in his uniform, cleaned up as best as possible, before the lid was nailed onto his coffin. He half hoped that visiting his grave on what was just a few weeks past the one year anniversary of his death might help her to get over him more. Although, he had been pleased with the progress she'd made in her grieving process for Bordon, and she seemed even better now that she was pregnant. He would stay by her side and help her through it.

They made it to the town of Magnolia before sunset and checked into the village's inn. They had dinner, then Melanie retired to bed early as Will looked over files and his list of things to do at the camp tomorrow.

The next morning, they rode the short distance in the carriage to the camp. Melanie looked out over the British tents and the gravestones surrounding the area and couldn't seem to recall any of it. William reminded her that she was consumed with grief at the one and only time that she'd had occasion to be in that camp and therefore probably didn't remember much of it.

The morning was cloudy as General Tavington and his wife walked out to Major Alexander Bordon's grave. Melanie held a small bouquet of flowers as William held his arm about her protectively as they walked.

Once at his grave, Melanie stayed stoic, not wanting to cry over her dead lover in front of her husband. But Will knew that she wanted, and that she needed to. The two walked up to it together and William helped his wife to place the flowers at the cross. She took a few steps back and let her husband grieve again his fallen second in command in private.

As she stood back, she watched her husband at first as he knelt down in front of the cross. She watched him as his fingers traced the name etched onto the wooden marker. Melanie had known by his actions and words that Bordon had been a very important figure in Will's wife, but to see him kneeling at his grave in quiet reverence told her just how much he had meant to her husband. The young woman felt tears coming to her eyes and trying her hardest to stay composed, she turned away from the grave, unable to watch her husband there anymore.

After a few moments, William walked softly up behind Melanie and wrapped his arms around her. Instinctively, his hands went to her abdomen, as if checking that everything with the baby was alright. Since they two had come to their understanding of sorts two weeks ago and he'd felt the baby move that night, it seemed he had been unable to keep his hands off her swollen belly, whether just to caress its roundness or to feel the child within move.

"Would you like to go over there now," he whispered tenderly in her ear.

"Yes. I'm ready," she answered.

Melanie took her husband's arm as he led her back over to Bordon's grave. He helped her to kneel down before it, then stepped back a respectable distance to leave her alone with the dead Major. William glanced over from time to time, making sure that his wife was alright.

"General! General Tavington!," someone yelled across the cemetery. William turned toward the voice to see a young lieutenant waving his arms at him. "You're needed right away!"

"Thank you. I'll be right there," Tavington yelled back. He looked over at Bordon's grave to see Melanie looking up at him. She'd heard the shouts for him.

"It's alright, Will," she called. "Go ahead. I'll be fine."

"I'll be in the administrative tent," he said, looking down in concern at his wife.

"I'll find you," she said, giving him a reassuring smile.

William left, leaving Melanie absolutely alone with Bordon's grave. She too, traced the letters on his marker and began to cry hard. She had thought back over the last year, and had spoken to him often, and repeated much of that as she cried now. After nearly an hour, the young woman kissed his marker, then used it to help pull her pregnant body up to standing.

The girl had finally stopped crying and wiped her eyes. She stood now after saying good bye to her fallen lover. Melanie walked a few yards away from the grave then turned back a last time to look at it. She noticed a woman with a boy of about six years of age coming toward the grave.

The woman and boy stopped in front Alex's grave. Melanie had only seen the woman once before from a distance at Fort Carolina. She knew her to be Mrs. Bordon.

A whirlwind of emotions hit Melanie all at once. Sadness. Jealousy. Longing. Fright. Mostly panic. She wanted to flee back to her husband's arms. And as she turned, Bordon's wife called to her.

"Did you know him?" Mrs. Bordon asked.

Melanie stopped in her tracks. She knew she couldn't run away now. She took a deep breath and composed herself, then turned back toward the grave. The general's wife took a few steps closer to Alexander's resting place, but yet kept her distance, just not wanting to be too close to her dead lover's wife.

"Um….yes," she said. Melanie knew she couldn't stammer, that she needed to sound confident, as if she had nothing to hide; nothing to be guilty of.

"He was my husband's second in command," answered Melanie.

"You're Mrs. Tavington?"

"Yes."

"I didn't think the colonel was married," Mrs. Bordon remarked, sounding truly befuddled.

"Oh, he is a General now," Melanie corrected with a soft voice. "We've only been married since last May."

"And you're with child," Alexander's wife said.

"Yes," Melanie said. "I'm seven and a half months along." Instinctively her hands moved to her swollen abdomen, caressing it lovingly.

"But you look like you are due any day now," Alex's wife commented. Melanie said nothing, waving the remark off as she had heard it so many times.

"Well, I really should get back to my husband," Melanie bid nervously. "He will be waiting for me."

As Melanie tried a second time to leave, she was once again stopped by her lover's wife calling to her.

"Mrs. Tavington, I'm sorry to keep you," Mrs. Bordon began, "but I need to know something."

Melanie swallowed hard and turned back again to face Alex's wife. "Yes?" she answered.

"Your husband wrote a very nice letter to me after Alex died," she stated, "and told me of the circumstances of his death. Has he spoken to you of his death?"

"Actually, the dragoons were escorting me back to my home when it happened," Melanie informed. "I was a prisoner at Fort Carolina and had been released."

"You were there when he died?"

"Yes, William and I were both with him when he passed," she said flatly, trying not to show any emotion.

"Did he have any last words?" Bordon's wife asked. "Did he have a message for me or his boy here?"

Melanie's mind flashed back to the last moments of his life. How she was holding him in her arms. How he groaned in so much pain. The agony in his eyes. How he took a last breath, looked at her and told her that he loved her. She suddenly felt guilty that this woman's husband's last words were words of love for his mistress. Mrs. Tavington just couldn't tell her that-she didn't have the heart to.

"Uh…he was in so much pain that he couldn't speak," Melanie lied.

Mrs. Bordon said nothing back. Melanie felt like she needed to ease the woman's disappointment in not getting the answer she wanted.

Mrs. Tavington lied a second time. "Please be assured that we tried to comfort him as much as we could. We held his hands and were at his side."

"I'm sorry, the general is waiting," Melanie said, just wanting to get out of the uncomfortable situation as quickly as possible.

"Yes, I understand," Mrs. Bordon said. "Thank you."

Mrs. Tavington nodded her head. Just as she turned to leave she heard Mrs. Bordon call to her yet again.

"You must have loved him very much," Bordon's wife remarked in a sad voice.

These words stopped Melanie in her tracks, broke her heart, and brought tears to her eyes. Unable to stem her flow of emotion, she turned back to face her lover's wife anyway.

"Yes. He died in my arms," Melanie answered, her voice breaking as she finally dissolved into tears. "I'm sorry I'm so sorry!"

With that, Mrs. Tavington started walking swiftly as she cried back toward the white tents of the British. Soon she lifted her skirt and was running. As she neared the canvas city, she saw her husband's tall form appear from a tent. The young wife fell into his arms and promptly fainted.

One of the doctors there at the hospital was called to examine the woman. Melanie came to and told Will what had happened and the doctor deemed that she had experienced too much excitement and stress for one day and that it had exhausted her in her late pregnancy stage.

Tavington promptly put her in the carriage and sent her back home, sorry and feeling bad now that he had brought her. He would feel better knowing that she was at home resting. He would ride on to Camden and finish his business there alone.


	75. Chapter 75 Difficulties

Chapter 75 Difficulties

General Tavington ended up making as much haste as possible in closing down Magnolia Camp after he'd sent his ailing wife home. He traveled equally as quick to Camden and wrapped his meetings up there. The man was glad to be home again and hoped he wouldn't be called away in the next five weeks—until after the baby was born.

It had been a week since William had returned from his army business and Melanie had been in the house resting most of that time, still sick frequently. Today she walked out onto the front veranda wanting a change of scenery. She pulled the quilt tightly about her to guard against the February chill in the Carolina air.

Mrs. Tavington's mind cursed the effects of the weather on her pregnancy. The heat of last fall had been unbearable. And now, she couldn't seem to get warm, even in the mild cold of the Carolina winter.

Melanie eased her body, the abdomen which seemed to have increased even more in less than a week, down into a chair. The girl had to get out of the house as she had become stir crazy. She sighed as she looked over at her husband talking with Mr. Barnes on the lawn. She rolled her eyes in irritation. _Good Lord! How many times a day does he have to meet with the servants? They know what their duties are. He could leave them alone to do their jobs, she thought. _

During the last week there had been a huge shift in Melanie's hormones. Though she had been sick most of her pregnancy, her moodiness had been well under control. But this last week her moods seemed to spiral out of control, crying one instance and lashing out in anger for no reason at another moment. Everything seemed to irritate her.

William indeed had noticed this and spoke to the midwife about it when the woman was out to check Melanie two days ago. She assured him that it was normal. It helped that William also understood that his wife was sick and exhausted and just wanted to get the childbirth over with.

As a result of Mrs. Tavington's mood swings, Will tried to take on all the dealings with the servants and slaves himself lest his wife shout at them. They understood what was going on with the usually kind plantation mistress and overlooked it.

The general tuned back and noticed his wife on the porch in the cold. He finished up his conversation with the trusted farm hand. "Thank you, Mr. Barnes. I'll have a look at it." With that, he turned and walked toward the house.

"Melanie, it's awfully cold out here," he called. "You should go back inside."

"No, William! I'm so cooped up in there," she said sharply. "Good Lord, you have forbidden me from strolling about the plantation! The least you can do is let me sit out here and get some fresh air!"

The officer was quiet, letting his wife finish her hormonal based tirade. He watched as she took a breath and continued on, raising his eyebrows as he watched her.

"You're being ridiculous about this, William," she shouted. "I'm perfectly fine out here."

Tavington walked up the steps then over to his wife. "Yes darling, I know," he said calmly and patronizingly. "I just worry about you. Please, just a few moments, then go back in."

With that, he turned to leave. When he reached the steps, he heard his wife call after him.

"William!"

He looked back to see Melanie struggling to push her heavily pregnant body up from the chair. The general raced back to help her, taking her elbow and easing her up. His wife then threw her arms about him and began to cry.

"I'm so sorry that I snapped at you!" Her face was buried in his chest.

Will sighed, having been told to expect this. "I understand," he said softly. He lifted her chin to look up at him. "Shhhhh…..this is nothing to shed tears over."

Melanie sniffled, then wiped the tears from her cheeks. She felt William kiss her hair.

"I'll check on you in a few minutes," Will said. With that, he left his wife alone on the porch to get her fresh air.

Mrs. Tavington watched her husband as he strode across the green to the carriage house. William told Mr. Barnes that he would look at the new wheel that had been put on the buckboard.

After a couple of minutes inspecting the wagon, a satisfied General Tavington walked from the coach house back toward the mansion. His leisurely steps broke into a jog when he caught sight of his wife leaning over the veranda railing.

He raced up the front steps to her aid. "Melanie, what's wrong?" he asked with concern.

"I'm going to be sick."

With that, Will supported Mrs. Tavington, helping her down the stairs over to the side of the house. He watched helplessly as Melanie retched and vomited into the grass, thinking that the change in temperature from the warm house to the cold porch probably brought on this bout of nausea.

When she was done, he lovingly wiped her mouth with his handkerchief. She leaned on him again as he led her back toward the steps.

"Come, into the house with you," he said.

Mrs. Tavington did not fight, willingly letting him guide her back inside. Once inside the house, she looked at her husband. To him, she looked deathly white and exhausted, but she had just thrown up.

"I'm going to lie down on the sofa in the small parlor," she said, heading that direction.

Will watched her as she walked slowly across the large gallery that direction. He turned and went into his office to work.

Melanie entered the parlor and neared the couch when a sharp pain tore through her abdomen. Her eyes flew open and her hands went to her belly, holding on to it.

"Oh!" she gasped as yet another hard pain went across her middle, this time bringing tears to her eyes. In another few seconds, a third pain hit her, this one so hard that it took her breath away and knocked her knees out from under her.

Mrs. Tavington, now on the floor, sat trembling for a moment, not sure what was happening. She was flushed with sweat in an instant. She took deep breaths as she made her way to her knees as she sat on the floor, hoping it was just an isolated, fluke pain that would pass.

After another moment, there were no more pains. She felt like she could use the back of the couch to help pull her body up from the floor. But as she looked down her robe had parted, and she noticed a large red stain on her white chemise where it fell between her legs.

"Oh no," she cried, shaking again. She quickly pulled her skirt up to find blood on the insides of both thighs. Then she put both hands under her skirt, putting her fingers up to her womanhood, feeling it slick with warm fluid. Pulling her hands out from beneath her gown, she panicked when she saw her finger tips covered with blood.

"Oh no! Oh God no!" She struggled to her feet and made her way to William's office, crying as she did.

"William! Oh William!" She was holding he hands up in front of her as she sobbed. "Something's wrong with me."

The general saw the blood on her hands and bolted from around his desk. "Melanie! What is it?" He reached his wife's side. The girl was shaky and crying.

"Something's wrong with the baby," she sobbed.

William put his arms around his wife and walked her toward the stairway, his first and only thought to get her to their bedroom. She leaned on him, still crying.

"Mrs. Sloane!" he yelled, still helping his wife.

The housekeeper raced into the living room and was met by the sight of Mrs. Tavington with blood on her hands and the stain of it on her chemise.

"I'll send for the doctor and the midwife," she affirmed as she left the room.

"And send for Mrs. Wilkins, as well," Tavington yelled.

Mrs. Tavington, who was hanging on to William, suddenly passed out, nearly pulling Will down with her. Laying his wife's body on the floor, he called to her. "Melanie? Melanie?"

General Tavington heaved his wife's limp body up into his arms and headed up the stairway. Once in their bedroom, he laid her gently on their bed. Mrs. Sloane soon joined him, informing him that word had been sent to the village doctor and midwife, and Ezra was sent to fetch Mrs. Wilkins. The housekeeper pulled an oilcloth from the bureau drawer and eased it under Mrs. Tavington's abdomen and legs to minimize whatever mess was to come.

She left and went downstairs, ready to answer the door at the first sign of the doctor or midwife. William sat on the bed next to his unconscious wife, holding her hand, waiting for help to arrive.

~/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/~

"Alright," Dr. Manning said. "Let's see if we can get her to come to."

It had been nearly five hours since Mrs. Tavington had taken ill and fainted. A small crowd of concerned people had gathered. The first to arrive, shortly after Melanie had become sick was Mrs. Wilkins, fetched on horseback by the slave Ezra. He'd returned with her a scant thirty minutes later. James Wilkins with baby Jim arrived an hour later by their own carriage.

The doctor, who was nearby at a farm, arrived two hours later, and the midwife, Mrs. Bronner, was the last to arrive three hours later as she was finishing up with a woman in the village.

Melanie was seen to by the doctor and midwife and stabilized. Her bleeding had stopped on its own, but the woman still had not awakened. Her color was a sickly, washed out white.

The small crowd, without baby Jimmy Wilkins who was being seen to by Diedre, had gathered about the Tavington's bedroom. They talked in muffled voices and tried to assure a shaken William, who had known that his wife's pregnancy was precarious.

The doctor took a bottle of Hartshorn from his bag. Uncapping it, he passed it gently under Mrs. Tavington's nostrils, hoping that this attempt would bring her about.

Melanie's face crinkled, and her head nodded from side to side as she smelled the pungent powder. The girl groaned softly, apparent that she was coming to. The group gathered about the bed smiled, relieved that she was conscious again.

The young wife looked about quietly, recognizing that she was in her bedroom. She recalled having pain in her belly and bleeding, as if it was just within the last minute, not having known that she'd passed out. She was unaware of the time, her condition, and what had happened.

Confusion reigned in her head. Recognizing all the faces gathered about her bed, and all with concern etched upon them, she immediately panicked. The girl began to cry, thinking the worst.

"William! Oh no William!," she cried, pulling her arms from beneath the covers and reaching for him.

"I'm here, darling," he answered.

His frightened young wife grabbed onto him, throwing her arms about his neck and crying. "Oh no William! The baby! Did I lose the baby?" she wept hysterically.

Will pulled her close to him and held her as he cried. He looked at the group with a look that conveyed that he wanted a few minutes alone with his wife. "Doctor Manning, if you would please stay," Will requested.

"Certainly," answered the physician.

Melanie continued to cry in hysterics as the crowd left. "Shh…..shh….Melanie," William soothed. "Everything is alright. You are well. The baby is well."

Mrs. Tavington calmed down, relieved to know that she was still carrying her child and that he was well. Still, she clung to Will, not wanting him to let her go.

He spoke softly to her. "You had pains. You were bleeding, then you passed out in my arms."

"I remember the pain, and the blood," her voice said, breaking as she recalled those frightening moments.

"Doctor?" William asked, motioning for the man to join them.

"Mrs. Tavington," he began, "I'm not sure what your pain was or why you bled. Sometimes late in pregnancy, as the baby shifts in the womb, it puts a strain on the placenta which can cause bleeding. I suspect that is what happened. You may have had some very early irregular contractions, which might have been the cause of the pain."

He touched his patient's wrist. "Your bleeding stopped on its own as did the pains. You have approximately four weeks left to carry this child and for it to be fully developed and healthy, it needs to go to term and stay inside you for every one of those weeks."

Doctor Manning took a breath then continued. "If you want to carry this baby to full term then you must stay in bed and rest until after the baby is born. And you must not have any undue worries. Any physical activity or strain could cause you to go prematurely, and this we don't want."

Melanie nodded her head, wanting to do anything for her child to be born healthy. She continued to calm down and listened intently to the physician.

"You have had some undue worry during this pregnancy, and it's caused you pain and illness each time, which continues to weaken your body," he informed. "You are going to need every ounce of strength you have to deliver the child when the time comes."

The physician went on. "I felt your abdomen, and the midwife did as well, and we feel confident that the baby has already turned head down ready to drop lower into your pelvis, and then labor and delivery will come."

With that, the doctor bid farewell leaving Melanie and William alone. She looked up at her husband's concerned face. "I'll do everything he told me, Will," she promised. "I'll stay in bed and rest."

A relieved William gazed down at her. "Good," he answered. "I just want you and the baby to be well…..and safe." With that, he gave her a soft, loving kiss.

"Darling, I want to see Bridget," she requested. "Please send her in."

"Alright, but just for a few minutes," answered Will. "You heard what the doctor said."

Melanie nodded and settled into her pillow, waiting for her friend. William went down the hall to the upstairs sitting room and sent Mrs. Wilkins in.

General Tavington sat quietly as he watched James Wilkins holding his three and a half month son, Jim. He watched as the baby smiled up at his father, who was smiling back. And how the infant was making noises and cooing, and trying to laugh. Will looked on as his neighbor held his son so proudly, and talked to him, and he noted how the child's tiny hand closed into a fist around Major Wilkins' large fingers.

Wilkins laid the baby on a blanket in the middle of the floor. The infant, on his back, began wildly kicking his legs and pumping his little arms. The babe smiled and cooed at this small accomplishment. William laughed, amused at the sight of the "little man" happy just kicking and flailing about.

Tavington seemed not to hear the conversation going on the room about him. His face, which had been filled with a smile of amusement as he watched Wilkins' young son on the floor just a moment ago, now clouded over with dismay. He was worried for Melanie, and the baby within her. He had heard dozens of times of mothers and babies dying during childbirth, which was the time in a woman's life when she was closest to death. William didn't want to lose her so soon after what he felt was just getting her back with so much happiness in their lives now.

William Tavington did love his wife. He longed to hear her repeat those words back to him. The officer knew that she did not love him when they married, which was for convenience, but he still had hope that she would grow to love him one day.

**Author's note: **Hartshorn was used as smelling salts.


	76. Chapter 76 To Bring Forth Life

Author's note to readers: 7/18/10 Sorry that it has taken a few days to update—again real life was calling. I edited this very quickly so can't guarantee if I caught all the errors—I probably didn't. I will try to catch them and correct tomorrow.

Chapter 76 To Bring Forth Life

General Tavington looked up from the book on his desk, then at his pocket watch. He had an appointment to meet with two young officers coming by the house. They hadn't arrived yet.

Will stood and stretched as he thought about his wife, now bedridden with her pregnancy. Inside, he was worried about her and the child, having heard stories recounted about mothers or babies—sometimes both—dying during childbirth. There were few things in life that had scared this brave officer, but the thought of his wife, sickly with this pregnancy, giving birth most certainly did. Still, he showed a stoic face to the world but would definitely feel better once Melanie had delivered the baby and was resting comfortably.

The officer decided against checking on Melanie. He wanted her to rest as she'd had trouble sleeping the night before. She'd kept him awake, as well, as he worried for her. His young wife tossed and turned all night long, unable to find a good position to rest in. The poor girl complained that she was having trouble breathing, assuming that the babe within rested squarely on her diaphragm. She cried, saying that she just wanted to have the baby and get it all over with.

William sauntered out to the porch just in time to catch the two redcoat officers riding up the lane. He was looking forward to meeting with them, glad for the temporary distraction of the matters at hand. After greeting the young men, he led them out to the gazebo, deciding to meet with them out there on this mild winter day.

It had been three days since Melanie's close call with a near miscarriage. She had done as the doctor directed: staying in bed resting, and trying to have no worries. The doctor had limited the number of visitors she could in order for her to rest. As a result, Mrs. Tavington wiled away most of the time along. Mrs. Wilkins had been her one steadfast visitor, though only allowed for short visits at a time.

This morning, as General Tavington visited with the officers outside, Melanie, much to her own chagrin, found herself alone again in her room. She felt odd this morning, not feeling the baby moving at all within her. The young woman also felt bloated and uncomfortable as she tried to sit up. Once up, the girl noticed that the baby seemed lower in her body, and sitting right on her coccyx, making it so that she wanted to lie back down.

She rolled over to her side, then felt a couple of light pains in her back. She shifted her body to the other side, hoping to ease the ache of her back. After a few minutes of little relief, she started to feel hard cramps in her belly. And after a few more moments of moving and shifting positions in her bed, she sighed, thinking that she would have to give in to her misery.

Lying on her back staring at the ceiling, she put her arm over her eyes, blocking the light of the day. As she lay there, she wondered what else she could possibly do for relief. As she stayed still a few moments, she noticed that the cramps seemed to come and go regularly, lasting briefly, with a break in between. Melanie's eyes and mouth opened, an alarmed look on her face as she realized she had probably started contractions.

The girl panicked. "Oh my God! This can't be! It's too early," she said to herself. "No. Oh no!"

"William!" she called. "Will!"

There was no answer. She began shouting for anyone who could hear her.

"Mrs. Sloane!"

"Diedre!"

Still no answer.

"My God! Where is everyone?" she cried aloud.

Since no one was answering, Melanie went against orders and got out of bed. She walked into the hallway, looking down it both directions, then peering over the banister down to the first floor. She saw no one. Mrs. Tavington was about to yell again when a hard pain just like the ones she'd had three days ago hit her middle. It took her breath away.

In an instant, the young wife collapsed onto the floor. The girl felt too weak to pull herself back up to her feet. She managed to drag herself a couple of feet to the wall, which she reclined back against. Weak and in pain, tears came to her eyes.

The girl put her hands on her swollen belly, holding onto it. "God, someone please help," she cried weakly, "the baby."

After another moment of being propped against the wall and panting, she felt as if she'd lost control of her bladder. The young woman looked down to see a spreading stain of wetness on her nightgown and the floor around her.

Closing her eyes, Melanie tried to calm herself, consciously trying to slow her breathing. The woman could feel her heart beating hard and swiftly within her chest. All she could do was sit there, hoping it would not be too long before someone would find her.

And after only a short while, the girl heard soft footsteps coming up the stairway. Melanie opened her eyes, looking up to find Diedre the maid standing over her with a horrified look on her face.

"Good Lord, Mrs. Tavington!" she exclaimed, "What are you doing out of bed?"

Her eyes widened as she looked at the stain of wetness on the mistress' gown and the floor.

"I think the baby's coming," Melanie whispered.

Diedre ran down the stair calling all the servants. "Get Mrs. Bronner and Dr. Manning! The mistress' labor has begun!"

Mrs. Sloane heard the commotion and went to the side door of the house. "Jonas," she called to the young stable boy," fetch Mrs. Wilkins to come sit with Mrs. Tavington."

The housekeeper strode back through the house to the front porch where she called out across the lawn, getting the attention of the three officers in the pavilion. "General! Come quickly! It's your wife!"

William hastily bid farewell to the young captains, who knew of the situation, and raced to the house.

"What's the trouble?" he asked as he threw his uniform coat over a nearby chair. The man quickly started up the steps.

"She's gone into labor," Diedre informed, moving up the stairway behind the man.

"But she's not due for weeks," he muttered. The anxious man continued to charge up the stairs until he reached the hallway landing. He found his wife sitting of the floor in the hall. She was holding her belly and whimpering.

Will raced to her side and knelt down next to her. Melanie was breathing in puffs. She looked up at him with a tearstained face.

"William," she panted. "I'm sorry. The baby."

"Nonsense, darling. Nothing to be sorry for," Will said, trying to hide his fear. "Let's get you back to bed."

With strength Will lifted his wife off the floor and carried her back into the room. The officer laid her gently on the bed, then sat down next to her.

He watched as Melanie labored through her contractions, her body stiffening and breathing heavily. She squeezed his hand every time a pain hit, then sank back into the bed in relief when they subsided. Tavington lovingly wiped his wife down with cool water, murmuring words of encouragement to her.

William watched her anxiously for two hours as he waited for the midwife and the doctor to arrive. And although Mrs. Wilkins had come soon after hearing of the situation, Will preferred to remain at Melanie's side, determined to stay with her for as long as possible. He knew that when Mrs. Bronner arrived that he would likely be "shooed" out of the room since men were not preferred to attend childbirth.

By the time the midwife arrived nearly three hours later, Mrs. Tavington had turned on to her side, curled into a fetal position with pain. After greeting Mrs. Wilkins and the expectant couple, she spoke to Mrs. Sloane, giving her a list of things needed for the birth.

After the housemaid scurried away to obtain the items, Mrs. Bronner , the midwife, addressed Tavington. "General, I'm afraid you'll have to leave now. This is women's work; she will be taken care of, I assure you."

A worried Tavington spoke up, "Can you help her with the pain?"

"Yes, a little," she answered, "But there is still some pain always during child birth. Your wife will find strength she didn't know that she had. She will be fine, sir."

With that, William found himself standing alone in the hallway after being ushered out of his bedroom. He then wandered downstairs to find Major James Wilkins and his young baby son Jimmy. The general greeted the two, then settled into a chair. The elder Wilkins began talking about the business, the farm, and other various small talk to try to keep his neighbor's mind off his wife's ordeal of giving birth.

Meanwhile upstairs, the midwife set about to the business of helping bring another baby into the world. "Bring your knees up please, Mrs. Tavington," the older woman instructed. I need to check you inside to see how close you are to delivery. It may be a little uncomfortable."

Melanie cringed, knowing from Bridget's recent birth and from sitting with her mother while in labor with her younger siblings what to expect. She winced and squeezed her Irish friend's hand when she felt the midwife's fingers inside her touching her obviously tender and stretched cervix.

Mrs. Bronner looked up from between the young woman's legs to see the girl grimacing and gritting her teeth. She also had felt the her body go rigid, which hampered her from feeling how thin the young wife's cervix had become.

"Try to relax, Mrs. Tavington. I'll make the exam as quick as I can," she said. "Take deep breaths."

In another moment, Melanie sighed with relief when it was done. She straightened her legs back out and let her body sink into the mattress, glad to be in between contractions, as well. Mrs. Tavington looked on as the midwife squeezed and palpated her swollen belly.

Mrs. Bronner gave the scared wife a reassuring smile. "The baby is in a good position with the head down and he is sitting lower now. The child is definitely ready to be born today, but it's going to be a few hours. Try to rest and conserve your energy between the contractions; you will need all your strength for the delivery."

~/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/~

In the ensuing hours that passed, General Tavington stayed downstairs in the parlor with Mr. Wilkins and his three month old son. An update on the progress would be received every time a servant passed through on the way from the bedchamber to the kitchen or laundry. Mrs. Wilkins did her share of updating and reassuring when she came down to nurse baby Jimmy.

A couple of times William was let in to see his wife. For those few moments he would sit by her on the bed, rubbing her shoulders and back, uttering words of encouragement. Then he'd leave her with a kiss and an "I love you." On his way out he'd quietly plead with the midwife to please give her something for the pain. He worried more each time that he'd get to see her, noting how tired and sick she looked.

Other's tried to help ease the General's mind. Mr. Andrews gave him a stack of papers and bills for the business to be signed. Mr. Barnes made up "tasks" that he needed the plantation master's help or approval with, just to get him out of the house for a few minutes at a time.

Major Wilkins, at one time, tired of William's pacing back and forth, invented a reason to leave baby Jimmy with Tavington. "Uh, General, I need to confer with Mr. Andrews on some winery business. Could I impose upon you to take Jimmy for a walk outside?"

"Certainly," Will answered. With that, the two men walked outside into the mild winter day. Wilkins handed his son to William, who surprisingly took the infant with a smile.

The major turned his head to look back at his commander holding his son as he walked to find Mr. Andrews. He hoped that this would be another distraction, keeping William from the house and from hearing his wife's increasingly pained screams.

Will walked along, stopping at different places, pointing out things to the baby boy. He pointed out things to him and talked to him, as if the three month old child understood completely what the adult was saying. After awhile, the general made his way back to the porch and sat down. Putting Jimmy on his lap, he laughed as he watched the baby see just how many fingers he could put into his mouth at once. Then William smiled as the boy began to wiggle and squirm on his lap. The baby seemed to discover that he had legs and that he could move them. He straightened them to standing, then bent his knees and bounced up and down on the general's lap, amusing the officer as he watched the child exercise.

After awhile, Melanie's pained screams filtered out onto the porch, pulling William's attention from the Wilkins baby. "William!" she cried. With that, Tavington walked into back into the house.

"WILLIAM!" screamed Melanie.

The officer handed the baby back to his father then moved swiftly across the large open hall to the stairway. "Melanie!" he shouted back as he started to bound up the stairway. He was distressed, feeling that something wasn't going right.

Wilkins, afraid of what the frightened new father might find, half expecting the worst, handed his child to Mrs. Sloane who was standing nearby. He chased up the stairs after the distraught man.

"General!," yelled Wilkins, trying to get him to stop, "William!"

He finally caught up to his neighbor at the door outside of the bedchamber. He grabbed Tavington and began pulling him away as best he could.

"Will! Will! No! You can't," he pleaded. "You have to let them do their job. We would just be in the way. How would that help Melanie?"

About that time, they heard Mrs. Sloane greeting Dr. Manning at the door. Both men turned to see him ascending the stairway.

"Good evening," the doctor greeted the two officers. "I was called to come help with Mrs. Tavington's delivery. Mrs. Bronner chose not to take any chances since your wife had some problems with the pregnancy recently. Why don't you gentlemen sit down and I will send someone out with an update."

The physician then disappeared into the room. Jim then pulled a dazed and scared Tavington away from the door and down the hall. They both sat down in the second story sitting room.

Jim watched as General Tavington, sitting with his elbows on his knees, dropped his head into his hands, looking desperate and undone. "So many women and babies die during birth," a distraught William stated. "I don't want to have to bury my wife and child out there next to her parents."

James Wilkins pictured the graves of the Prescott's in the family cemetery not too far from the house. He closed his own eyes, hoping that Tavington's words would not come true.

"General, just as many women and children have lived through birth as well," Wilkins pointed out on a positive note. "Your mother and my mother did. Melanie's mother and my sister did, too."

"I know you're right," Will conceded. Then he heard Melanie scream and groan again.

William looked up at his Wilkins, a look of helplessness on his face. Wilkins was stunned, having never seen the officer afraid of anything before.

"I'd take her pain if I could," said William with a forlorn shake of his head.

"I would Bridget's, as well," agreed James.

Both men sighed. A moment of contemplative silence passed between the two, the sound only punctured by Mrs. Tavington's occasional groans of pain.

Jim Wilkins spoke up. "There's a reason why women have the children," he began. "I think it's because that inside, they have even more courage than men do. They let us invade and plunder them at our whims, then they bear our children from our seeds we leave behind. And they do it quite bravely."

"And Melanie is so happy to be having this child," William added.

"Well, of course," James replied. "They bear our children because they love us. And we adore and love them back even more for it!"

~/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/~

Diedre pulled the wet cloths from Melanie's belly. She dipped them into the fresh,warm water, wrung them out, and soon laid them back across the expectant mother's abdomen. The midwife rubbed Mrs. Tavington's birth canal with soft butter as she gave directions to Mrs. Wilkins. "You may give her a couple of sips of the wine."

Bridget did as she was told, holding her friend's head up a bit in one hand, and tipping the wine glass in the other. Then she wiped Melanie's sweaty face and forehead with a cool rag.

Mrs. Wilkins sat back for a moment and sighed, glad that Melanie was in between contractions, which were coming rapidly now, lasting longer and were harder. She thought back to when she arrived this morning hours earlier. It had been a long day and her friend was in the last stages of labor, ready to deliver her child.

Doctor Manning stood by, watching the situation, glad that her labor, though difficult, had been normal so far. He gave Mrs. Wilkins a look that silently told her that it wouldn't be long now.

"Alright, Mrs. Tavington, time to push again," Mrs. Bronner instructed.

Bridget held Melanie as she pushed hard, groaning as she did. After she flopped back onto the bed, panting hard with tears running down her face. She looked up at Bridget, who looked down at her and squeezed her hand.

"It hurts so much," she cried. "I'm so tired."

"Not much longer now, Melanie," Bridget said with a smile. "Think of holding the baby."

"You're almost done, Mrs. Tavington," the midwife commented. "I can see the baby's head now."

Another contraction came and Melanie pushed again, holding her breath as she did. Mrs. Bronner looked up at the tired mother and encouraged her. "You're doing well. Give me another strong push."

Mrs. Tavington gave another hard push and soon felt her body ease as the baby slid out. The young woman again collapsed back onto the bed, trying to catch her breath.

"It's a boy," announced Mrs. Bronner.

A huge smile crossed Bridget's face as she looked down at her friend. Then she hugged Melanie, who was sobbing now.

"Oh William," she said weakly to herself, "we have a son."

The doctor took the baby and began to clean him up. He asked Diedre the maid to go inform the General.

In the upstairs sitting room, Diedre found her master had finally succumbed to exhaustion and was asleep in the chair. She smiled at Major Wilkins, whose tall frame was stretched across the sofa with his young son asleep on his chest. She moved quietly across the room to where William was dozing and gently shook him awake.

He looked up at her with a start. "Yes?"

"You have a son, General," she proclaimed.

"A boy!" he repeated, jumping to his feet. "How's my wife."

"Tired….but fine," she answered.

As she left the room, Tavington noticed Wilkins asleep on the couch. He smiled at his friend and fellow officer, with his infant son sleeping on him. Will decided not to wake the man, looking at the two of them quiet on the sofa_. I have a son now, too, he thought with a smile. _

Diedre returned to the room to continue helping. Melanie was laying back relaxing, relieved that the birth was over, waiting for the small contraction that would come that would help expel the afterbirth. Mrs. Bronner decided to help speed that process along.

"I'll help rid you of the placenta," she said. The woman moved to the side of the bed and began to massage Melanie's abdomen. As she pressed a little harder to help discharge the afterbirth, an odd look crossed her face.

The midwife moved back down to the foot of the bed and peered between Melanie's legs. She called for the doctor to have a look, as well. He handed the baby to Diedre, who put the newborn boy into a crib nearby.

After a few moments, the doctor spoke. "You're having twins, Mrs. Tavington. But this baby isn't in a favorable position for birth."

Melanie looked up at the doctor and midwife, clearly alarmed. It seemed that the twin, hidden behind it's brother all this time, was in a breech position as the doctor and midwife could see a pair of tiny buttocks in the birth canal. They explained to Mrs. Tavington that they thought the baby could be delivered that way as she was still very open after giving just giving birth to the first baby.

In a moment, another set of painful contractions came and Mrs. Tavington once again found herself bearing down, trying to push another tiny life from her body. But after a couple of pushes, the baby was lodged and wasn't moving.

"Mrs. Tavington, I'm going to try to turn the baby from the outside," she announced. "This will be a little uncomfortable."

Melanie groaned and grimaced, squeezing Bridget's hand hard as Mrs. Bronner pushed hard and prodded on her still swollen belly, trying to manipulate the baby into a better position. After a few moments of this, the doctor checked but still saw only the baby's tiny back end.

He gave a worried look to the midwife, then spoke to Melanie. "We're going to try something else," he said, as he pulled a cloth covered bite stick from his medical bag. As he spoke, he handed the stick to Bridget.

"Mrs. Bronner is going to have to try to turn the baby from the inside now," he informed. "She will have to reach up inside you and move the baby from there. I'm sorry, Mrs. Tavington, but it will be a bit painful."

Melanie shook her head in disbelief, weeping as she did. Then she bit down hard on the stick and Bridget held her tightly. The doctor also helped to hold her body down. The young wife thought she would pass out from the pain as she felt the woman moving the baby inside her.

Diedre once again left the room, needing more butter for the midwife to aid with the delivery. She stopped at the second story sitting room again.

Before she could even speak, Tavington was already asking questions. "How's my wife? When can I see her and my son?"

"General, she is still delivering," said Diedre. "You have twins."

"Twins?" he asked, his mouth dropping open.

"Yes sir," she said. "The birth of the second child has been a bit more difficult. It may be awhile before you can see your wife and children."

Will collapsed into his chair in disbelief. _Twins. TWINS? He thought to himself._ Diedre left him to his thoughts in the room, needing to collect fresh supplies and get back to help with the delivery.

In the bedchamber, Melanie gave a sigh of relief when the midwife withdrew her hand from her after trying to manipulate and move the baby internally. The girl lifted her head from the pillow and looked down between her legs, seeing the doctor and midwife both examining her with very troubled looks on their faces.

Mrs. Tavington grabbed at her friend, Bridget, crying hysterically. "What's happening? What's wrong? Is something wrong with the baby?"

Bridget did her best to keep her friend calm, trying to assure her that she was in good hand with the doctor and midwife. Indeed, Doctor Manning and Mrs. Bronner were very worried. The twin should have been born by now. They were worried that the baby would suffocate if not able to get through the birth canal. Then there would be the matter of the mother.

They knew that the baby had to come out quickly now for the skin tone of its little buttocks had turned bluish.

"Alright, I'm going to try a method I know of that will hopefully work," Doctor Manning said. He knew of Doctor Smellie, a Scottish Doctor who earlier in the century had developed a method for delivering breech babies.

The doctor positioned himself at the foot of the bed between Melanie's legs. "Please bear with me because this is going to be painful," he warned Melanie. With that, he reached inside Melanie with his hand, through her cervix and into her uterus, which made the poor girl scream.

Once inside her womb, his fingers quickly located the mouth of the child. He hooked his finger into the baby's mouth with the lower part of the baby laying on his forearm, and he gently pulled downward.

"Push, Mrs. Tavington," he directed. "That's it! The baby is coming out!"

With his other hand, he helped ease the child from Melanie's body. "It's all over, Mrs. Tavington. You have a daughter!"

Melanie smiled through her tears, then immediately felt light headed. She looked up at Bridget with a confused look on her face, then everything went black and she collapsed back onto the bed.

"She's fainted," Melanie said as she tried to rouse her friend.

The doctor was busy unwrapping the umbilical cord from around the tiny baby girl's neck. He handed the baby to Mrs. Bronner who noticed that the baby wasn't breathing. As Doctor Manning set about to delivering the afterbirth and stemming the bleeding, the midwife tried to get the baby breathing. She laid the infant on its stomach on the bed and massaged the child's back. Within a few seconds, the baby soon took a breath. She kept it up for a few more moments until the child's color had returned to normal, and the breathing seemed regular.

As the doctor and midwife cleaned up the baby girl and Melanie, Diedre once again left the room to inform the General, and the rest of the household staff, of the two newest members of the Tavington family.

This time as she entered the sitting room, Major Wilkins was awake now, sitting up and cradling his sleeping son, and Tavington was wide awake, pacing the room again. Both men looked frantically at the maid.

"The twin has been born," she announced. "You have a daughter, General."

"A daughter!," he exclaimed. "When can I see my wife and the babies?"

"Well, Mrs. Tavington had a hard time with the last baby," answered Diedre. "She fainted. The doctor is taking care of her now. He will speak to you in a little while."

~/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/~

A little over an hour later, Melanie came to. She revived quietly, after the doctor and midwife had checked the unconscious girl over and pronouncing her fine, but exhausted and weak.

As Mrs. Tavington opened her eyes, she became aware of feeling a bit of pain still in her abdomen and between her legs. She turned her head and looked to the side of the bed. There she found her husband, dressed in his breeches and shirt only, his hair down and long, looking like a rogue. And though he looked tired, he smiled as he looked proudly at both his newborns. He was cradling the tiny twins: one in each arm.

Melanie smiled as her heart melted. She loved the sight of him holding their babies. He looked up and saw her awake, and locked eyes with her.

"You're awake," he greeted softly. "You fainted after she was delivered."

"I did?"

Will shook his head 'yes'. "How do you feel?" he asked.

His wife sighed. "Tired. Sore," she answered. "How are they?"

William looked at both his new children once again. "Perfect and healthy," he replied.

"I want to hold my babies," Melanie said, shifting herself painfully to sit up more.

William gave her one of the tightly wrapped bundles. She received it with tears in her eyes.

"Who's this?" she asked, looking down at the baby.

"That is our son," he answered.

Melanie began to cry, overjoyed that the babies were finally here. She couldn't believe the amount of love that she already felt for the tiny infant. The young mother looked on in wonder at her new son.

"He is so handsome," she commented as she touched his face. "Just as handsome as his father. My dear, all the women will swoon." All this said as she cooed and fawned over the child.

Will laughed, then spoke. "What do we call him?"

Melanie looked down at her son with eyes of love and smiled at him. "William," she replied. "William Prescott."

"William Prescott Tavington," the general said aloud. "That is a fine name for my fine boy!"

Mrs. Tavington looked over at her daughter, whom William still cradled protectively in his arms against his chest.

"And what is her name?" asked Melanie.

Both parents stared for a quiet moment at the baby girl, sleeping soundly against her father. Then Will spoke. "Mary."

More tears came to Melanie's eyes. "Mary….after my mother," she said, wiping her eyes.

"And her middle name?" the officer asked.

"Martha," answered Melanie.

William smiled at his pretty young wife. "After _my _mother."

General Tavington looked down as his baby girl and smiled. "Well, well, my little Mary Martha Tavington. No man will ever be good enough for papa's princess," he cooed to the baby. "Don't you worry. Daddy will shelter you away."

"Oh, really, William," Melanie chuckled, rolling her eyes at her husband.

"Daddy is going to keep all the libertines away from you."

"Like Colonel Tarleton and Major Hanger?" Melanie asked snidely.

"Yes! Exactly like them!," he answered with a laugh.

"William, could I hold her at least once before you send her to the convent?" asked Melanie jokingly.

"Certainly," Will replied, handing her the baby after she laid baby Will on the bed beside her.

Baby Mary began to cry as her father handed her to her mother. "Oh….see..," Tavington began. "She wants her papa back already."

"Oh, Will, she's probably hungry," Melanie said in a sensible voice. With that, Mrs. Tavington undid the top drawstring of her night gown with her free hand and pushed her sleeve and gown down. She put her baby girl to her breast and was amazed, smiling as the infant latched on to her nipple. William moved to sit next to Melanie on the bed.

He looked at his son sleeping quietly on the bed, then at Melanie holding their daughter, then at the baby girl sucking quietly at his wife's bosom. General Tavington smiled, still amazed that he had a little family now.

Melanie watched her daughter quietly as she nursed her. "Will, she's so beautiful!"

"Just like her mother," he replied, planting a soft kiss in Melanie's head, then on her cheek.

She looked up at the officer. "You make a handsome father, even more handsome holding our children." Melanie smiled prettily at him.

"And you are a ravishing mother," he murmured into her ear. Then he took her mouth with a slow and deep kiss.

When he was done kissing her, he whispered into her ear, "Thank you for our children."

/*/#/*/#/

**Author's note: **Buchan's domestic medicine from the 18th Century helped greatly in educating me as to childbirth at that time. The laying of warm, wet clothes on the laboring mother's belly and gently rubbing the birth passage with soft butter or pomatum was done in a difficult labor.

Sometimes when twins are born, one will be turned head down and can be delivered vaginally with no problems, and sometimes the other twin will be turned breech, which today a C-section delivery is done. Back then, they tried no surgery if at all possible.

Dr. William Smellie (1697-1763) was a Scottish doctor called "the father of obstetrics" and helped to develop some early midwifery techniques. The Smellie method was used for years to deliver breech babies. The doctor or midwife would reach up into the mother and put two fingers into the baby's mouth as an anchor, and the baby's body would lay straddled on the forearm and with gentle and firm pulls and pushes from the mother, the baby could be lifted and eased out of the mother's body. I don't think I would want to go through that, but in a time when surgery usually ended in death, that (the Smellie method) was probably the "lesser of two evils" as far as methods go. And apparently in researching this, that despite the pain to the mother and some risk, apparently lots of breech babies were born using this method, saving the baby and mother's lives both. I understand from my research that this method is still in use today during natural, midwife births in which a suction method or forceps cannot be used.


	77. Chapter 77 Realization

**I'm sorry this has taken so long to update-I've had to do some painting (yuck) in my house and also trying to get my daughter ready for Kindergarten, which starts in two weeks. Yes-I know she will probably cry that day when I drop her at school and I will cry, too! It seems like she was just born yesterday-time has certainly flown! **

**thanks, as usual, for your patience and for sticking with this mammoth story. Special thanks to Trace and Est.**

**JScorpio July 30, 2010**

**PS: I am posting this late at night and although I tried to edit/proofread, I am tired and have probably missed somethings. I will try to correct them tomorrow! Thanks**

Chapter 77 Realization

Mrs. Tavington sat at her quilt, stretched in its frame, stitching at it carefully by the candle light of the room. A few feet from her lay the twins, William and Mary, happily gurgling and shaking their tiny rattles. Melanie looked up from her work for a moment to look at her babies. It was the middle of March 1782 and her infants were a little over a month old. She couldn't help but marvel at how they had changed in only four weeks—nearly right before her eyes.

The young wife smiled as she looked at the content little babies. Then she chuckled and blushed as she remembered watching William with their children. He had been so good to her and the twins, helping her out with them. She recalled during the week after they'd been born, him bringing the children to her to feed during her lying in period at night after Mrs. Wilkins' had gone home. He continued doing it when Melanie was back on her feet.

Melanie especially loved how it seemed that her husband couldn't get enough of holding their newborns. She remembered waking up several times in the middle of the night to find William gone from the bed. Mrs. Tavington would find him in the babies' nursery, usually in the rocking chair holding one of the sleeping babies. He'd give her a frown when she'd whisper a scold in his ear that he may end up waking them up when they were awake enough already through the night.

The Tavington's could have assigned one of their maids to get up with the children at night, but they didn't. Indeed Melanie had resisted letting the servants raise her children. She wanted herself and her husband to do as much of the parenting as possible, only relying on the hired help as a back up. As a result, she found herself often unable to get tasks done because of the immediate needs of the children. She cheered herself with the thought that she would eventually learn how to balance it all, and that the children wouldn't always be so dependent.

After a moment of gazing at little Mary and William, Melanie shifted her attention to the doorway, wanting her husband to be standing there. She sighed after a minute, giving up hope that Will would be home tonight. She resigned herself to hopefully having a happy reunion with him tomorrow.

General Tavington has been summoned to Camden on military business. The British army still maintained a presence in South Carolina, though it was dwindling as per the agreements made with the colonial army. William was helping with facilitating the move of personnel from this part of the colony back to Charles Towne.

Melanie thought about William and a change she'd seen in him since his children had been born. She had seen a calm and patience in him that she'd never witnessed before. He was so gentle and loving with her and the twins. Mrs. Tavington hoped that Will's volatile temper had eased. Indeed she hoped that her children would never experience his wrath—especially physically as she had so many months ago.

Still the young wife reflected on how her own feelings had changed in the last few months, particularly since the birth of the twins. She had felt more secure and at ease with her husband; more trusting of him. And she never imagined that William, the same man that she had witnessed order a massacre of rebels at Pembroke village, could be such a good and loving father. She loved watching him cradle and rock his children, acting so protective of them. Melanie noticed how she felt when he did this, how full and warm her heart and soul felt.

The young Mrs. Tavington found herself missing the general so much when he left for his short military or business trips during these last few weeks. And even though they were short, usually only a day or night or two, the girl would often find herself counting the hours until she would see William again.

Mostly, Melanie found herself wanting to please her husband. The young woman always slipped her arms around him or placed small,loving kisses on his cheeks or lips. And in the weeks after the birth of the twins, during the weeks they had to abstain from intercourse due to risk of infection to her, she found herself striving to keep Will's attention, working hard to keep him from visiting a brothel to exercise his manly needs. The man became very fond of his wife's soft hand or tantalizing mouth on his manhood, sufficient enough to keep him from visiting the village doxies. But her eagerness to please him ran as deep as her heart, as well. She relished laying in bed at night with William, sleeping safe and entwined in his arms.

Melanie could not remember feeling this much happiness or bliss for months, maybe even years. She had last felt this warm and secure in the Spring of 1778, when her parents were alive, and when she was engaged to Peter, her first love, weeks before he had been hanged. Life for her, after all these months and years of tragedy, finally felt whole and right again.

The young woman took a deep breath, smiling again, at all her thoughts and happiness. She went back to work on the quilt, working diligently at the small, fine stitches she took in the outlines of the square patches of material. After a few moments of working, she was completely lost in the task, thrilled to finally be making some progress on the blanket.

As Melanie worked along on the quilt, first one cry, then another one chiming in drew her from her task. She closed her eyes and sighed, disappointed as she had been stitching at a fairly good pace. The young woman put her needle down and rose from the chair. She took a few steps over to where Mary and William lay on the blanket fussing away. The girl dropped to her knees.

"Come now," she cooed to the twins, touching each of their little stomachs, "what is wrong now, you two? Is Mama not to get anything done tonight?"

The babies looked at her, but continued to fuss. "Now, really," she said as she picked up baby Will. "You've just been fed. You have clean britches."

She kissed Will, then picked Mary up and cradled her as well. "And now Mommy is holding you. What do you both want?"

Sitting back on the floor, she held a tiny baby in each arm, softly rocking them and talking softly to them. Both settled a bit, the fussiness calming a little. Melanie looked at both of them and smiled. "Ah, I know. You miss Papa. Yes. I miss daddy, too!"

She kissed each of their little foreheads. "Darlings, I'm afraid we're not going to see him tonight. But I'm sure he will be home tomorrow. He loves you both so much that he can't stay away from you very long. In fact, I know that he misses you!"

After another moment, the twins seemed to settle a bit more. Mrs. Tavington laid them both back onto the blanket, shaking each rattle to get their attention. "Well, we will tell daddy 'goodnight' in our prayers a little later before we go to bed," said Melanie, placing the rattles back into the tiny fists of her babies.

The young mother got to her feet again and walked toward the quilt. As she did, the babies started to cry out again. A frustrated Melanie turned back and looked down at her crying twins. "Oh, what am I going to do with you two?," she sighed aloud, wishing she knew what they wanted.

"I'm home," a familiar male voice said.

General Tavington's greeting roused Melanie from her dismay and hand wringing over her two fussy little angels. "Oh Will! I'm so glad you're home," she exclaimed in a voice conveying relief.

She ran to the refuge of her husband's arms. Although taken aback and quite surprised at her greeting, he wrapped his arms tightly about the girl.

"I missed you so much!" she cried, looking up at him, a mixture of fluster and relief in her eyes, but sincerity that she had missed him deeply.

"And I you," he answered, a smile tugging at his lips, pleased at the heartfelt greeting.

Before he could say anything else though, his wife hooked her hand around his neck and pulled his head down to hers. Her lips crashed into his, capturing them in a long, deep, unhurried kiss that left him instantly aroused.

When their mouths parted, her lips blazed a trail across his jaw, then to his ears, then his neck. It was as if time stood still for the reunited couple, both forgetting that their children were near.

Soon they found one another's mouths again, kissing deeply again. Melanie's hand dropped between them to the front of his breeches, rubbing his hardness through the material.

The officer caught her wrist, gently pulling her hand away from his crotch. His wife's lips soon found his ear, kissing it and driving him insane. "Darling, when can we have relations again," he asked in a lusty whisper.

"Soon," Mrs. Tavington murmured breathily. With that, their lips met again, kissing one another hard, sensuously.

In an instant, the loud cries of their babies pulled them from their sensual reunion and back to reality. Melanie pulled away from William, sighing in frustration.

"They've done this all evening!," she exclaimed putting her hands on her hips. "Every fifteen minutes it seems! I've fed them! I've changed their britches!"

The general was quiet as he listened to his frustrated and tired wife spout off. "I just get stitching along at a good pace on the coverlet then one of them cries again!"

"Why didn't you call one of the servants to help?" asked Will.

Melanie glared at him. Her hard look sent a silent scolding to him that said _now Will, you know we agreed to do most of the parenting ourselves!_

"You tend to the quilting," William offered, "I'll see to the children." He gave his wife a kiss, then smacked her behind as she stepped back toward her quilt.

General Tavington knelt down on the floor before his crying twins. "Come now, you two," he began with a grin, "You're certainly not jealous that I greeted your mother first, are you?" With that, he picked up his son Will, then lift Mary with his other arm. With strong legs, he stood back up and took a couple of steps to a nearby wingbacked chair.

Both children settled immediately at the voice of their father, looking at him with curiosity and feeling happy to be held by him. Tavington settled back into the chair, cradling each child in both of his arms, one on the right and the other on the left.

"Did you really think I'd forget to greet you?" he asked them, kissing each child's tiny head. "Daddy missed you both so much. Let me look at both of you."

He looked to his left, down at baby Will. "William, my boy," he spoke softly, "I do believe you have become even more handsome since last I saw you." He kissed his baby son's head again.

Then the officer looked to his right, down at his daughter. "And my darling little girl, Mary," he murmured. "You grow prettier and prettier every day." He nuzzled her cheek with his lips, planting a little kiss on her.

"You are Papa's little angels," he said. "I had to hurry home to see you both!"

Just then, Mrs. Sloan entered the room and noticed the General had returned. "Welcome home, General," she called. "Would you like some dinner?"

"Yes. If you would send it into my office, please," he requested, "I'm afraid I'll have to eat and attend to work at the same time."

"Oh, Will, do you have to?" Melanie asked, looking up from her quilting.

"I'm afraid so, darling," he apologized. "I've got some correspondence to look over. I won't be too long, I promise. I'll join you in time to put the twins to bed."

Satisfied with that, Melanie went back to her sewing as Will continued to cradle his newborns, enjoying holding them in the few moments he had before retiring to his study for a bit more work.

~/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/~

True to his word, General Tavington joined his wife upstairs a couple of hours later as she was readying the babies for bed. He walked through the door of the nursery next to their bedroom to find his wife nursing baby Will, and Mary fussing impatiently in her crib.

"Done?" asked Melanie as she looked up at her husband.

"Yes."

"So, you're mine the rest of the evening?"

"Not yet," William said as he heard Mary crying. He lifted the dear little girl into his arms, rocking her, trying to get her to settle down. "I think she's hungry, Melanie."

Looking back as her son sucking happily at her breast, she commented, "I have my hands full with her brother right now."

The officer frowned as his daughter wailed away in his arms. "You know, you do have two of those," he said, pointing to her chest. "Can't you feed them both at the same time?"

"Yes I could," she answered, "But it's easier one at a time."

William shifted his baby daughter up to lay on his shoulder. The baby cried on still. "Uh…she's very hungry."

Mrs. Tavington rolled her eyes and heaved a frustrated sigh at her husband. "Will, all I do, it seems, is feed them. She was doing fine in her bed until you came into the room."

Will continued to pace back and forth, trying to comfort his fussy little girl. "Shhh…It's alright, Mary," he whispered, then kissed her head. "Papa's got you."

"Would you please distract her for a few moments while Will finishes up," Melanie requested.

"Of course." William began to walk the baby girl in his arms about the room. He shifted her to where he was holding her now in front of him. General Tavington walked to the wall where a painting of dozens of pretty little cherubs hung. He pointed to one of the tiny angels in the portrait.

"Do you see this, darling," he asked of his daughter. "This is an angel. And _you_ are daddy's little angel."

He shifted the baby once more, back to cradling her in his arms. "You are the prettiest little girl in the whole world!" With that, he kissed the tiny baby again.

"You're more beautiful than your mother," Will remarked to the babe in his arms. "But don't tell her I said that. I'd hate to get into trouble with her."

His wife, still feeding their son, looked up at her husband, rolling her eyes at his silliness. "Oh William! Really!" she exclaimed in mock frustration.

William moved the baby a bit and began blowing on and kissing her tiny toes and feet. Mary cooed and smiled at her father.

The general went on making over his daughter. "Papa is going to give you the best," he promised. "Daddy will make sure that when it time for you to marry, that you will have the richest, most handsome of young men! But not until you're 25!"

"Good lord, Will!" Melanie cried. "Would you make her an old maid?"

Tavington chuckled at his wife's exasperation with him. Then his expression changed, his eyebrows lifting in surprise. "What's that? You have a secret for daddy? Well, pray tell me right this instant!"

William then lifted baby Mary closer to his ear, acting as though he was listening to her little secret. "Oh, very interesting," he said, continuing on with his little act.

He walked closer to baby Will and Melanie and spoke. "She says that she and Will would like a brother or sister soon."

Mrs. Tavington shot the general a very alarmed look. This made William laugh heartily.

"I'm teasing you darling," he comforted. "I'd like for the twins to at least be walking well before we even conceive again. We have our hands full for awhile."

"So, to try and plan this next baby at the ideal time," Melanie began, "then I am to assume you have us sleeping in different beds for the next year?" His wife could tease back as well as he could.

"My dear, you forget that I've been around soldiers and barracks for the last few years," Will reminded. "I know of a way to prevent it."

Mrs. Tavington gave her husband a horrified look. Even the very thought of it to her was going against nature. But she was curious anyway, and asked, "How?"

"I pull my yard out right before I come," he said in a low and serious voice. "I leave my seed outside your body, instead of inside it."

Mrs. Tavington was immediately skeptical. "But that takes discipline and control."

The officer leaned over and whispered into his wife's ear in a naughty fashion. "My dear, I can be very controlled."

Melanie snickered in disbelief, then gave her husband a silly smile. "We'll see."

The young mother looked down to see her baby boy looking up at her with wide eyes, no longer suckling. She gently unlatched the infant from her breast and laid the satisfied babe on the bed. His stomach full, she could tell by his eyes that he was sleepy, yet he seemed to fight it, having heard his papa's voice and knowing he was here.

Tavington handed little Mary to his wife. Melanie exposed her other breast and put the baby to it. The infant instinctively latched on, sucking hard and greedily.

The general sat down on the bed next to where his son was laying. He tickled his belly, then leaned down and kissed the baby boy's head. "Now, Will," the officer began, "Whenever papa leaves, you are the man of the house. It will be your duty to take care of your mother and your sister."

Mrs. Tavington sighed again. "Good Lord, William. Why don't you let him be just a little boy for awhile, hm?"

"Oh, very well," the man conceded. "Daddy will have to take care of you for awhile, hm?" With that, Tavington leaned down and blew on his son's belly, eliciting a faint smile and some flailing from the baby. The officer then picked his son up and crossed the room to the window. He held the infant up so that he could see out onto the lawn.

"This whole plantation shall be yours someday," stated the elder William. "Daddy will teach you all about the farm. I shall also teach you to use a sword and pistol. And you shall ride well like a true cavalryman!"

General Tavington brought the baby boy back into his arms, holding the infant close to his chest. He noticed that the little one, his belly now full of mama's milk, was closing his eyes. The man rocked little Will gently in his arms as he crossed the room to the crib. Once there, he kissed the now sleeping baby and placed him softly into the cradle.

From there, General Tavington turned, staying at the crib, and watched quietly as his wife nursed baby Mary, rocking her all the while. He smiled at his wife, his heart full of love for his little family, as he looked on at both of his girls. Will had noticed that from shortly after the twins were born how good of a mother Melanie was to them. To him, it seemed as though it came easily and naturally for her, and he loved her as a mother, and a mother to his children.

In another moment, Mary had fallen asleep at Mrs. Tavington's breast, no longer sucking. Melanie unlatched the infant gently, and noticed that her husband was now standing above her rocking chair. He had his arms out, ready to take his daughter to her crib. She partially buttoned her dress back up as William crossed the room to the cradle.

Melanie soon joined him there, where she kissed her sleeping infant daughter goodnight while the babe was still in the arms of her father. She smiled at her husband and he then kissed the baby girl and placed her in the cradle.

Mrs. Tavington walked to the door and as she turned to leave she noticed her husband, lingering at the cribs. She watched him as he gazed at his sleeping children, amazed at how good and loving of a father he was.

"William," she said in a low voice, "come to bed."

"I will in a moment, my dear," he answered. "I just want to watch them sleep for a bit. I missed them so much when I was gone."

Melanie smiled, and padded softly out of the room, leaving her husband, a man totally enamored of his new children.

~/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/~

Melanie sat at her vanity table, in only her shift, finishing up brushing out her long, wavy blonde hair. As usual, she felt herself a wee bit excited to finally have William to herself, even just enjoying laying in bed with him at night. The young woman put her brush down just as her husband walked through the door.

Will looked at his scantily clad wife with a warm smile. "They're still sleeping soundly," he informed, then closed the door.

She smiled at him, then got up from her seat. Mrs. Tavington walked over to the large window as the general made his way across the bedchamber to the large, ornate wardrobe.

Once at the window, Melanie looked out into the darkness. The she looked back over her shoulder across the large bedroom to see her husband taking his uniform off. She turned back to the window and crossed her arms in front of her, closing her eyes, basking in the quiet of their room.

William gazed silently at his wife as he shed his uniform. He smiled to himself, glad for the quiet of the room and happy to be home. When he was down to nothing but his breeches, he padded softly across the room to where Mrs. Tavington stood.

A sigh escaped the young wife's lips as she felt her husband slip his arms around her waist from behind. She loved being wrapped in his arms, feeling his body against hers from behind.

"I missed you," he breathed low into her ear.

Her body trembled slightly when she felt his breath on the shell of her ear. The young woman smiled, yet blushed, feeling nervous to be in his presence.

"I always stand at this window when you are away," she said in a low voice, "and watch for you to come up the lane."

The general kissed her head, breathing in the floral scent of her hair. "Well, I'm home now," he purred, "so what are you looking at?"

"Not really looking at anything," she said, relishing feeling his arms around her, "just thinking."

"About what?"

"Us," replied Melanie. "Our family."

"Our new family?" he whispered playfully.

"Yes," his wife answered. "I think you're turning out to be a wonderful father, William."

He chuckled low, and kissed her cheek. "Tell me that again in eighteen years," he began, jokingly, "they may become defiant if they're anything like their mother."

Melanie laughed. "I have learned to keep my defiance in check."

With that, Mrs. Tavington turned in her husband's arms to face him. They kissed softly for a moment. When they broke, Melanie took his hand and led him closer to their bed.

Once there, the young woman turned to face him again, reaching up to slip her arms about his neck and shoulders. Tavington put his arms around his young wife's waist and pulled her to him. The couple began to kiss each other deeply and sensually, taking their time. Will bent down slightly and moved his lips to her neck, and she in turn, trailed kisses along his jaw line and to his ear.

"I love you," she whispered in her husband's ear.

William pulled back from her and threaded his fingers into her blond hair. She looked up shyly at him, his dark hair long and falling about his shoulders, making him look like a rogue.

He looked down at her with gentleness in his azure eyes, a soft smile playing on his lips.

"I've waited so long to hear you say that," he said quietly. "I was beginning to wonder if you ever would."

"I think I fell in love with you on our wedding night," said Melanie. She broke away from his embrace and stepped away from him, turning her back.

The young woman felt so nervous and shy. She felt like she needed to explain why she could not tell him that she loved him before now. "I just…..well….so much has happened…I wasn't sure what I was feeling."

William caught her and pulled her back into his embrace. "There's no need to explain. I'm pleased to have heard those words from you finally."

The two kissed again, slowly, deeply, taking their time. Melanie ran her hands over Will's bare chest, then slid one hand downward. She found the waistline of his breeches and slid her hand slowly down the front of them. She was pleased to find him extremely aroused. She took his hardness in her hand and began to slide her fist slowly up and down it, eliciting low groans from him.

After a few moments of this torture, he felt near to a climax. William gripped her wrist and gently removed her hand from his pants.

"When can we have relations again?" he asked in a whisper as he kissed her ear.

"Now," Melanie replied as she nibbled his neck. "We've waited four weeks as we were advised to." She felt her knees go weak as he continued to nibble on her ear.

He soon gathered her chemise into his hands and pulled it off over her head. They stopped kissing for a moment, time enough for him to look at her naked body and admire the new changes in it since last he'd seen her nude. Her large, pregnant belly was gone, but her once youthful, flat belly was no longer so, either. Now her middle bore just a slight roundness to it, reminding him that she'd given birth to his two little darlings sleeping soundly in the other room.

Melanie moved close to her husband again, leaning into his body. She kissed his mouth, then moved downwards, kissing over his neck, then his chest, then his belly. As she did she hooked her thumbs into his waistband. The young woman knelt on the floor before William, pulling his breeches down slowly over his hips, then down to the floor.

On her knees, she took Will's stiffness into her hand and stroked it. Then she took his hardened member into her mouth, torturing the officer slowly with her lips and tongue. Will let out a low groan as he felt his wife taking his length deep into her mouth, nearly into her throat.

Tavington laced his fingers into Melanie's long hair, holding her head steady as she continued to pleasure him orally. He looked down at her as she did, watching her head bob gently up and down as she took his length in and out of her mouth. He closed his eyes, enjoying the sensations, and how good she was at pleasing him this way.

After only a few moments of this, as much as he wanted her to bring him to completion this way he stopped her. The general preferred to loose his seed elsewhere tonight instead of down her throat.

"Oh…Melanie…darling," the man gasped. He pulled her up off the floor and picked her up into his arms. He stepped out of his breeches pooled on the floor and carried his wife over to the bed, where he deposited her gently. The officer soon joined her, their naked bodies folding into each other on top of the sheets.

The couple began to kiss ardently again, their hands rediscovering the curves and contours of one another's bodies. William grinned to himself when he felt Melanie push his hand down between her legs.

"Put your fingers inside me, Will," she purred into his ear as he kissed her neck. But instead of doing so, he decided to draw the moment out and tease her a bit.

Tavington rolled her over onto her back and kneed her legs apart, placing his body between them. He grabbed her hands, then pinned her wrists above her head onto the pillow, firmly holding her down there.

"Oh, William!" she cried in a lusty voice laced with some surprise. He dipped his head to steal a long kiss from her, his tongue searching her mouth. Then his mouth moved to her ear, where it lingered, nibbling the shell of it, driving her nearly insane with desire. The man continued to tease her, enjoying it. He could feel her starting to move her body impatiently below his, spurring him on further.

"Tell me what you want," he growled low into her ear. He wanted his wife to beg him.

Panting hard, she spoke in a lust laden voice. "I want your fingers in me."

"You do?" he teased.

"Yes, William, PLEASE!" she pleaded.

Her husband then enticed her father, rubbing the tip of his hardened member against her wet opening, leaving her wanting him all the more. "Oh," she moaned, arching her back.

With that, he let go of her wrists he had restrained and moved his hand down between her legs. He caressed her thighs, trailing his finger tips up and down the insides of them. The girl was so aroused, just wanting him to get on with things.

"Oh….God…Will…PLEASE!," she begged, voice betraying her arousal.

"Please what?" he toyed with her further, still enjoying tormenting her.

"Your fingers," she beseeched, reaching for his hand, which he pushed away.

"Like this?" he asked playfully as he slid two fingers slowly up into her wetness.

He watched her as he did this, seeing a smile of complete relief and pleasure cross her face. Tavington enjoyed gazing as her as she closed her eyes and let her head sink back into the pillow. After a few seconds, she arched her back, then moved against his fingers.

Melanie moaned again as she soon felt him push a third finger into her. "You like that, don't you?" he teased her again.

"Oh, yes, Will," she purred. "I love feeling them inside me."

William soon dipped his head and drew one of her pink nipples into his mouth. She groaned as she felt his lips close around it, then felt his tongue swirl all over it playfully.

After this exquisite torture, she felt a warmth building within and knew she was close to the edge. Soon she came, calling his name. "Oh William, WILLIAM!"

From there he positioned himself quickly between her legs before she'd even had a chance to catch her breath after her orgasm. But before he could enter her, she reached between their bodies and began stroking his member fast and hard, making him groan. When she recovered, he caught her hand and removed it from his hardness. He thrust himself into her as hard as he could, releasing a cry of pleasure and pain from his wife.

Melanie threw her arms around Will's muscular body, holding him tightly against her. Then she wrapped her legs instinctively about his waist as he continued to drill into her. Soon his wife arched her back and began to writhe beneath him as she felt another orgasm possess her body. This brought Will close to the edge, but he held back, wanting to draw the experience out for awhile this evening since it was their first intercourse in weeks.

He pulled himself out of her, then brought his head down to claim her mouth in a slow kiss again. Melanie slid her fingers into his dark locks, holding his head as they kissed deeply.

After a moment of this devastation, she gently pushed General Tavington's body off of hers, rolling him onto his back. She then climbed on top of him, taking a moment to kiss his neck, then back to his mouth. He smiled with pleasure as she sank down on his stiff erection. From there, his wife began to move slowly up and down on him, grinding her hips against him, coaxing him to the edge.

After a few moments of this, he pushed himself up into a sitting position with her still atop him, his manhood nestled still deeply inside of her. His hand caressed her breasts as his other hand moved to her cheek. His thumb slid across her lips, which she took a moment to suck on as it did. His mouth crashed into hers again, and the two lingered in a long kiss as she kept moving on him.

Will's lips trailed kisses across her jaw, then to her ear. He whispered, "Tell me again, that you love me. I want to hear it again."

As she moved up and down on him still, she spoke, never breaking her cadence. "Oh, William," she purred in a passion filled voice, "I love you so much." Her head dropped backward, making her blonde hair cascade down her bare back. Her eyes were closed as she arched her back a bit.

"I don't ever want another man in my bed," she said, bringing her head back up. She opened her eyes and looked at her husband. They were filled with love and passion for him.

"I never want to feel another cock inside me but yours," she confessed in a lusty voice as she ground her hips against his.

Then she stopped moving on him, and threaded her fingers into his long, dark hair. She looked deeply into William's eyes, both mirroring deep love for the other. "I only want you for the rest of my life," she proclaimed in a sweet and loving voice. "Don't ever leave me, William."

His mouth took hers in a hard kiss. His hands slid to her hips as his lips pulled back from hers. "Never," he promised in a passionate whisper into her ear.

With this, he laid back down as Melanie began to move again astride him. He closed his eyes as she moved on top of him, loving his hands on her hips, feeling the movement of them.

"Harder, darling," Tavington gasped from below her, his head sinking back into the pillow, his eyes closed.

"Yes, Will," she answered in a lusty sigh. The girl reached forward and grabbed the headboard. Her breasts then fell just over William's face, and she cooed as she felt him draw one her nipples into his mouth.

The young woman began heaving herself up and down quickly on his stiff erection, loving how deeply she could feel him inside of her. It only took another moment of this for the two of them to climax together, calling each other's names as they did.

As Melanie rolled off of Will's body, he soon entwined her into his arms, the two of them quickly falling asleep in the afterglow of their lovemaking. Both slept sound and securely, glad to have finally found love, understanding, bliss, and happiness in life.


	78. Chapter 78 A Part Of Life

Chapter 78 Part Of Life

_July 1782_

The Tavingtons enjoyed a sumptuous breakfast this hot July morning. They had over night guests from the military with them that they entertained this morning. A detachment of redcoats from Fort 96 had come in the evening before to escort the General to Camden this morning for military business.

The young soldiers had enjoyed little Mary and William. The five month old twins had been passed around amongst the men, giggling and cooing all the while. The young men laughed in turn back at the twins and the cute things they did.

When it nearing time for the men to leave, Mrs. Tavington excused herself from the meal to tend to changing the children's soiled diapers. As she did, the soldiers finished up their breakfast and went out to ready the horses for the journey.

After taking care of the twins, the young woman put them on their blankets in the parlor. She seated herself nearby in a comfy chair, picking up her needlepoint. Melanie looked down at her two little angels, marveling at how much they'd changed and grown in five months. They had learned to use their arms, legs and hands and could push themselves up by their arms a little when laying on their stomachs.

The twins were babbling and cooing wildly this morning. Their mother smiled as she watched them play with the toys spread out around them, working their arms and legs. The young mother grinned as she watched them trying to rollover. Soon satisfied that they were sufficiently busy, she set about her stitching.

Within a half an hour, Melanie found herself with a headache, unable to concentrate on her sewing. Soon after, her stomach started to rumble, then felt as it was doing flips. The girl dropped her needlepoint and rose from her chair. Lightheaded, she made her way slowly toward the preparation kitchen where the servants were taking their morning meal. Mrs. Sloan was busy cutting up a fish for lunch. Mrs. Tavington caught a whiff of the thing and immediately became even more sick, now flushed and hot. The help looked up from the table and were alarmed at how ill the mistress looked.

"I'm going to be sick," gasped Melanie. A quick thinking Ezra jumped from the bench where he sat and helped steady the master's wife, easing her to the floor in the hallway just outside the kitchen. Mrs. Sloan ran over with a freshly rinsed porcelain bowl. Mrs. Tavington bent her form over and puked into it. And she kept on, seeming unable to stop.

William, ready to leave, walked into the parlor to find his twins alone and playing on the floor. He thought it odd that Mrs. Tavington wasn't with them.

"Diedre?" he called out into the main gallery.

"Yes?" she answered.

"Where's Mrs. Tavington?", he asked as he knelt down next to the twins.

"I don't know, sir."

"Hmmm," he said to himself with a quizzical look on his face. Then he gathered baby Mary into his arms. She immediately began grabbing at the gold epaulettes on his uniform coat.

"Goodbye, Mary," said the officer. "Papa has to leave for a few days. Daddy will miss his little princess!" William kissed the girl and handed her to the maid.

Then he picked up his son. "Goodbye Will," he bid. "Papa will miss his little boy!" The elder William kissed his infant son as the boy grabbed at the gold braiding of his uniform.

Tavington whispered in his little boy's ear. "Now remember what I told you. Daddy is leaving for a few days so that makes you the man of the family. Take care of Mama and your sister."

He handed his son to Diedre who now held both the children in her arms. He kissed both their heads again. "I'll miss you both! Be good for your mother. I promise to hurry home!"

"Why don't you take them both to the nursery," he requested as he looked around the servant's shoulders for his wife.

"Yes, sir," Diedre replied.

Will traveled out of the room and soon caught sight of Melanie doubled up on the floor. She was still bringing up her breakfast into the pot.

"Good Lord, darling, what's wrong?" asked the general.

"Probably this heat and the heavy breakfast," Mrs. Sloan answered for her sick mistress. "She did eat quite a bit this morning. She's been very hungry recently."

Melanie sat up and leaned back against the wall, exhausted from powerful heaves, and sweating all the while. Her face flushed, she looked up at her husband with an irritated stare.

"I have to leave in a few minutes," he announced. "I was hoping you'd walk me to my horse."

A sudden moodiness over took his wife. With tears welled in her eyes, she burst out in a flustered voice. "Well, go then!", she cried. "Just go!"

Melanie pushed herself up off the floor and bumped past her husband. She ran from the house, down the veranda stairs and past the awaiting detachment of soldiers.

"Melanie!", yelled will following her, "For Christ's sake! What's wrong?"

He trotted just as quickly out of the house and paused for just an instant at the group of redcoats and their mounts. From there he could see her tearing across the green to the pavilion.

"Would you please excuse me for a moment," he apologized to the waiting soldiers. "I need to have a word with my wife before I leave." They nodded their heads patiently, understanding that women were not always keen on their men leaving on military assignments.

As Tavington stepped up into the gazebo, he could hear his wife weeping. "Melanie, what's the trouble?"

The girl didn't answer, instead she sniffled and crossed her arms in front of her. William touched her shoulder, but she did not turn to face him.

"You were so quiet at breakfast."

Melanie still didn't answer him. He tried again.

"I have to go now," he reminded her. "I'd at least like a kiss before I go."

The general moved to her side. "Do you have to go…..now? I mean….I just wish you could stay with me," she stammered, choking back tears.

Though they always missed each other when he left for business, she understood his duty and his responsibility at running the farm and let him go usually without a fuss. He knew when she acted like this that something wasn't right.

"Why darling?" he asked in a concerned voice, hoping that she would open up to him.

Both of her hands dropped to her belly. "I'm pregnant again, William." Her voice was distraught, and she looked so worried as she looked out over the green lawn. She fought to keep from dissolving totally into sobs.

"So soon?" he asked, completely dumbfounded. "Are you certain?"

"Yes. I've missed two monthlies and have been sick."

"We agreed to wait," A stunned William commented. "We didn't want to conceive again until Mary and William were at least walking."

"I'm not happy about it either," snapped Melanie.

"It's not that I'm not pleased that you're with child, or happy to have another one with you," he began, not wanting to hurt the fragile girl, "I just didn't expect it this soon."

He pulled Melanie into his arms, where she laid her head on his chest and sobbed. Now he knew why she didn't want him to leave: she was upset.

"I suppose I shouldn't be so surprised," he said as he held his wife and kissed her hair. "We have relations nearly every day."

Melanie pulled back in his embrace and looked up at her tall husband. "You said you could prevent it."

"Yes, I know I did," he sighed. "That was easier said than done for you arouse me so."

Mrs. Tavington stepped out of her husband's arms and walked to the side of the gazebo. She leaned on the railing, looking out over the dark green grass, shaking her head.

"What am I going to do?", she asked. "The twins need me. How will I attend to them when I'm sick with this baby?" Her hand dropped to her middle and caressed where the tiny life was growing within her.

"How do I rest and keep myself well while carrying this child if I have to attend to Mary and Will?"

"Maybe Bridget can help," William suggested.

Melanie turned to look back at her handsome spouse again. "Will, she's five months pregnant and has little Jim to care for."

A quiet fell between them. Tavington tried to think logically about the situation as his wife fretted over it.

After another moment of silence, the officer spoke up. "Well, it's settled then. We will just have to hire a nurse to help."

Melanie recoiled at the idea. "A nanny? Absolutely not! My mother raised the four of us without a nursemaid."

Tavington cocked his head to the side, giving his wife a questioning glance. "Melanie, how much older was Matthew than you?"

"Two years."

William went on. "And how much older were you than your younger brother and sister?"

"Ten and twelve years separated us," she answered.

"Very well, then. Your older brother was walking and blabbering already when you came along," Will pointed out. "And you were there to help your mother out with your younger siblings. So, she_ wasn't_ without help."

"I know you're right," Mrs. Tavington relented.

William walked up behind his wife and slipped his arms around her waist. She sighed and laid her head on his chest. She managed a smiled when her husband's hand dropped to her belly and caressed it over where their child was nestled.

Tavington leaned down and kissed his wife's neck and ears, making her grin. "So, when will this child be born?" he asked as he gave her abdomen a gentle squeeze.

"February," answered his wife. "Just after the twins turn one."

Mrs. Tavington turned within her husband's arms to face him. Her eyes bore a look of worry as she looked up at the man. "Please, Will," she pleaded, "Let's not tell anyone yet. I want us to be happy about this when we announce it."

He kissed her forehead. "We will be happy," assured Tavington. "We're just shocked over it now. All will be well."

Melanie rose up on her toes and kissed her husband's mouth softly. "I'll miss you. I love you."

The officer smiled down at his pretty young wife. "I love you, too, darling."

The couple kissed deeply for a moment. Then General Tavington lifted his wife's chin and stroked her jaw with his thumb as he spoke. "Have Mrs. Sloan assign someone to help you with the children for now. We'll start looking for a nanny when I get back."

His wife nodded and gave him a small peck of a kiss. William took her hand as they walked toward the detachment of soldiers, still waiting on the general.

Once there, Tavington hugged his wife a last time, then swung up onto his horse. She reached upward and took his hand, giving him a look that silently said that she would miss him.

"Please be careful, William," she said.

"I will." With that, the general leaned down from his horse and gave his wife a last kiss before his left, taking her lips softly. "I love you," he murmured to her. "I'll be home soon."

"Good bye," Melanie bid quietly, nearly mouthing the words only.

She watched from the bottom of the steps as the detachment moved down the lane. Mrs. Tavington put her hand on her abdomen and looked downward at it, still in disbelief that she was carrying another child of Will's, and that their family would expand in only a few months.


	79. Chapter 79 When Least Expected

Chapter 79 When Least Expected

_October 1782…_

General Tavington stole quietly back into his room just shortly after six in the morning. He had offered to help Mr. Barnes milk the cows this morning to give Mr. Andrews a break. He did the same for Mr. Barnes as well, generously giving each man a morning to stay in bed a little later. William's body was still used to keeping odd hours anyway from years of patrols with the cavalry.

The officer smiled as he spied his pregnant wife sleeping soundly in their bed. He shed his clothes down to only his breeches and slid quietly into bed next to Melanie. As she lie quietly on her back, he moved next to her, relaxing on his left side. He began to softly kiss her neck as his hand slid down to her rounded, five month pregnant abdomen. William's hand caressed her belly over the life growing within and he continued kissing her.

After a moment, Mrs. Tavington felt her husband's lips on her neck and turned her head to kiss him. Her eyes still closed, she smiled as she joked in a whisper, "How dare you awaken me! I'm sleeping for two now!"

"Sorry, I couldn't resist a kiss," Tavington murmured as he continued kissing his wife. His lips moved to the shell of her ear. She giggled softly as he nibbled on it.

"William," she said, pushing him gently away. "Let's go back to sleep."

With that, Will stopped kissing her neck and moved is lips slowly down her body over her chemise. Once at her belly, he pulled the skirt of her gown up to expose her swollen abdomen. He then began to kiss her rounded middle. Melanie smiled and looked down at her husband, and ran her fingers through his long dark hair that he had not bothered to queue back earlier this morning.

After a minute of soft kisses all over her belly, he began to blow playfully on the skin of it, tickling her and making her laugh. She tried to push him away.

The baby then kicked her twice inside—hard ones. Mrs. Tavington grabbed at her middle, alarming her husband.

"What's the matter?"

"Baby's kicking," answered Melanie.

William ran his hands over her belly, feeling for the movement from his child within her womb. His eyes widened and he let out a chuckle as he felt the baby kick hard against his hand.

"Oh…that was a hard one," the general said.

"I don't think he liked his papa waking him up," comment Mrs. Tavington.

"Go back to sleep, little one," said William as he rubbed his wife's middle and kissed it lovingly.

Tavington moved back up even with his wife and wrapped her in his arms. "You think the baby is a boy, hmmm?"

"Yes," she whispered, then gave her husband a small kiss. "I feel that it's a boy. And I want to give you another son, Will."

"Well, we will know in February," William whispered. "I can't wait."

Mrs. Tavington kissed her husband as she sank into his embrace. She laid her head on his chest and agreed, "Neither can I."

~/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/~

Mrs. Wilkins and Mrs. Tavington sat on the green in the town of Devington in the mid afternoon. They were enjoying a picnic in the mild October warmth. Both had arranged for their children to be looked after while the two of them enjoyed a rare afternoon out. The village was bustling today with a large farmer's market selling the last of their summer crops.

Both women looked around for Josephine, the Wilkins' servant that had come with them into town today. Bridget had sent her around the town to pick up things for the household. The two friends continued conversing leisurely as they packed up their things.

"How is your search for a nanny going?" Bridget asked.

"Not well," Melanie replied. "We can't seem to find anyone we like—especially William. I think he wants someone born and bred in England. He still has such a distrust of some Colonials."

"I think Diedre does a good job with the children," Mrs. Wilkins commented. "Have you considered her?"

"Yes," Melanie answered. "We had thought of giving her all the nursemaid duties and buying a new indentured or slave to take her place."

Just then, Samuel, the Wilkins' slave driving the coach, approached the two women. "I'll take these back to the coach, Ma'am."

"Thank you, Samuel," Bridget said with a warm smile. The two women handed their picnic items to the man and watched him as he made his way back to the carriage to pack the stuff away.

Mrs. Wilkins and Mrs. Tavington made their way off the green toward a milliner's shop. They finally spotted Josephine, busy at the stall of a vegetable seller. The two friends decided to walk a little farther as they could see that the servant wasn't finished shopping.

The two looked into the window of the shop, adoring all the beautiful hats and ribbons on display. Bridget broke the silence.

"I sometimes can't believe that I could walk into this shop and buy any of those hats without a thought or care," Mrs. Wilkins said, almost sounding puzzled. "I was poor my life in Ireland and now I marry a wealthy officer."

"I think we are both surprised by how and who we married," Melanie laughed.

As the two friends turned from the window to walk on, they found their path squarely blocked. Mrs. Tavington looked into the face of the man now standing in their way.

Immediately recognizing the Benjamin Martin, a flood of emotions and fear rushed over her. She recalled her kidnapping at the hands of the militia. The young woman recollected her rough treatment at the hands of both the militia and the colonial regulars; the beating and her flogging. She remembered, with trepidation, being turned over to Colonel Burwell, who then raped her. Rumors that she'd seduced the leader to gain her freedom had still followed, even her own husband had asked her of it.

All the memories drowning her in an instant. Melanie was overwhelmed and immediately fearful. She put her head down, hoping the man would not want to speak to her and just move away.

"Well, if it isn't Hayden Prescott's daughter," the militia leader said. "I believe it's Mrs. Tavington now. Married to the Redcoat butcher of the Carolinas."

"Please let us by, sir," she requested meekly. With that, Melanie grabbed for Bridget's arm and attempted to pull herself and her irish friend past the man. He stepped to his side, continuing to keep the two women from moving on.

"Bordon's whore", he jeered. "What's the matter? Brutal Bordon couldn't keep you satisfied? Oh that's right. You_ couldn't _marry him—he was already properly married to another woman."

Not wanting any further insult, Melanie again tried to pass around the man. "I'm sorry, colonel. I've nothing to say to you."

Martin grabbed her arm tightly and pushed the woman firmly back against the brick of the store's wall. The militia leader put himself in front of the woman again as she cowered back against the brick with no place to go. Bridget watched it all in wide eyed wonder, unable to believe what was happening.

"You couldn't marry Bordon because he got himself killed," Martin teased. "So you worked your way up the British chain of command and married his commander. I don't think your father would have given his blessing to that union—"

Melanie tried to push against the man to get away from him, but he shoved her hard back into the wall. Bridget, appalled at the treatment, spoke up.

"How dare you touch her," Bridget objected. "She's with child."

By this time a small crowd was starting to assemble. Melanie hoped that someone would step forward and help her and Mrs. Wilkins.

Benjamin turned his head to Bridget, giving her a hard glare. "You'd do well to stay out of this, you Irish redcoat loving slut!" Mrs. Wilkins was stunned that this man knew who she was, but figured he'd heard it through the army intelligence or from the local countryside. She took a step back, hoping the same as her friend: that someone in the crowd may come to their aid.

"My two sons and the Howard family cry out to me from their graves to avenge their wrongful deaths at the hands of your dead lover and present husband," he shouted. "My grandchild has come to me in my dreams. He wanted a chance at life with Gabriel and Anne."

Mrs. Tavington was aghast at the man's babbling, not knowing what to say. Before she could open her mouth, he went on, still in a loud voice that convinced Melanie that the group of spectators that had assembled around them could hear him. "Your husband will pay dearly for the lives of my oldest sons," he threatened, shaking his finger in her face. "Perhaps your house will burn as fast as mine and Charlotte Selton's did…..or as quickly as the church in Pembroke."

Josephine had finished her vegetable shopping and filtered from the market toward the crowd that had gathered near the milliner's shop. Once she was close, she found a break in the group and worked her way to the front. She was stunned to see that her mistress, Mrs. Wilkins and friend Mrs. Tavington were the center of attention. The servant began to make her way toward Bridget, soon reaching the trapped pair of women.

While against the wall, Melanie's hands slid to her abdomen, instinctively covering the gentle swelling of her belly, protecting the child within. Seeing all the people gathered around them, and with no one to step forward, Mrs. Tavington fought back, wanting to defend her family's honor and get her and Bridget out of there as quickly as possible.

"Sir, whatever my husband did during war time," she began, unable to hold back her voice, raised enough for those close by in the crowd to hear, "whether you deem it an atrocity or not, was an act of war. He had nothing personal toward you or your family."

"My family members were innocent victims," he yelled.

"YOUR family wasn't the only victims of war," she screamed back, snapping as she recalled the attack on her farm nearly three years ago. "My family was murdered by a group of rebels—"

"Zealots," Martin corrected.

"REBEL zealots," Mrs. Tavington shot back. "We were pacifists. And I remember a time where you were a pacifist, as well, not wanting this war or wanting to fight in it."

"I wasn't a pacifist," the militia man refuted. "I didn't want to be involved in a war again."

"Yes, I remember that day, in Charles Towne, during the assembly," Melanie began, "when you spoke out against it. Yet you got involved."

"I got involved because your husband killed my son!"

"That was a poor reason to get involved," Melanie yelled back. "Just to kill a redcoat who had killed your son during a raid? You're involved for revenge? Your agenda was less than honorable."

"I wonder how your husband would feel," the militia colonel asked, "if he were to lose his family; his children?" The man's tone was dark and ominous.

"Have you no decency, sir?" asked Bridget, wanting the man to go away from them.

"Let me through!" a woman's voice screamed. Melanie looked up from where she stood pinned against the wall to see a beautiful, blonde haired woman pushing her way through the small crowd. A large, muscular slave accompanied her.

The blonde woman addressed the slave. "Brooks, take Colonel Martin back to the wagon, quickly !"

Ben Martin suddenly pulled back and away from Melanie. She watched him, confused at what was happening. The militia leader looked up into the sky, as if he heard or saw something.

"Elizabeth? Thomas?" he asked turning his head and looking about.

Melanie and Bridget both breathed sighs of relief when they saw the dark hand of the slave clamp firmly down on Colonel Martin's shoulder. They were glad to see the militia leader willingly turn to follow the slave.

"You don't need to be worrying yourself with all this, Ben," the woman said to him. "Go with Brooks now." The crowd parted again as Colonel Martin was led through it toward his wagon.

Bridget and Josephine reached to take each of Melanie's arms, helping her away from the wall. Once again, her path was blocked, but this time by a woman. Mrs. Tavington recognized her as the former Charlotte Putnam Selton, but she had known her to now be married to her former brother-in-law.

Melanie, still charged up from being insulted publicly by Colonel Martin, glared at his wife. "Mrs. Martin," she began, breaking away from her friend and the servant, "You would do well to remind your husband that the war is over. It is in the past and that nothing can be done now about past incidents."

"He won't be of any trouble to you with the state he is in," Charlotte Martin defended, "he can barely function."

"He seemed quite lucid to me," Melanie shot back, upset that Mrs. Martin had dismissed her husband's threats and jeers.

Charlotte gazed hard back at Mrs. Tavington, then spoke. "You were there the night my house was burned down by your husband and his men. We were hiding. I saw you on horseback away from the group. You were blindfolded. I believe that's when you were Bordon's mistress. Your husband's band of rabble raped me out on the island, as well."

Melanie swallowed hard and said nothing. The two women continued their standoff, neither one wanting to give.

Mrs. Martin went on. "Do you really think I'd care if my husband were to hurt anyone in _your_ family?"

"Then you would be as wretched as him and have blood on your hands," Melanie snarled.

"Like the blood that permanently stains yours, and your husband's," Charlotte Martin pointed out.

"Just be warned," Mrs. Tavington proclaimed, "that if your husband put a foot on our plantation or comes near our family, I know that William _will _harm him."

"I have no doubt he would," Mrs. Martin replied, "because he is a killer. A murderer."

With that, the woman picked up her skirts, turned and walked through the crowd.

Within an hour, Mrs. Tavington and Mrs. Wilkins were in the Wilkins' carriage and headed back toward their plantations. Melanie had become quiet and withdrawn since the confrontation had ended, upset at the wave of emotions that had washed over her. She was thinking of the memories of her family's murders, recalling her harsh treatment by the colonial army, remembering Alex, and thinking about the things she had seen her husband do as an officer. The flood of it all had choked the words right out of her.

Bridget was worried for her friend, looking forlornly at her as they rode quietly along in the coach. Finally, she could no longer take the silence. Seated across from her friend, she moved to where she was sitting next to Mrs. Tavington and took her hand.

"Melanie, you can't let what happened back there worry you," she began, "not in your condition. You've got to think about the baby."

Melanie nodded mutely, knowing her friend was right. Still, she said nothing, only letting out a troubled sigh.

"You did what a good wife would do back there," Bridget assured, "You supported your husband."

"I have heard about how your husband and Major Bordon performed their duties while on the battlefield," Mrs. Wilkins' informed. "Jim has spoken of it. Do you think I don't know who was made to throw the first torch onto the roof of the church at Pembroke?"

Mrs. Tavington looked at her Irish friend with alarm in her eyes. She was never sure if James had imparted that information to his wife or not.

"Jim didn't want to. He didn't always agree with the General and the major's tactics," Bridget stated. "But he did it because it was his duty. He wanted to follow orders."

Melanie reached for Bridget's other hand, both now holding both their hands. The two friends gazed at each other, each with tears dotting their eyes.

"We have nothing to be ashamed of about our husbands," Bridget affirmed, "and how they executed their duty. And now, they are both decent and fair businessmen, good husbands and providers to us, and excellent fathers to their children."

Melanie smiled and hugged her friend, then settled back into the seat. Her hand went to her belly and caressed it as she felt the child moving within her. _"I'm lucky to have William," she thought. "I do love him so."_

~/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/~

Later that evening, Melanie sat alone in her room after the children had been put to sleep. She reflected on the events of the day. After the confrontation with Mr. and Mrs. Martin in the village, Mrs. Tavington and Mrs. Wilkins had ridden home in the Wilkins' coach.

Melanie had requested to be dropped off at her home instead of going back to the Wilkins' plantation. Once at home Mrs. Tavington spent time with the twins, had dinner alone, then retired to her room to wait for her husband to return. He had been with Major Wilkins at his brewery most of the day.

Now, shortly after nine in the evening, William entered his bedchamber to find his wife sitting on the window bed. He slammed the door and gave her a hard stare. Mrs. Tavington looked up to meet his glaring eyes, and knew something was wrong.

"What's wrong, Will?" she asked, getting up to her feet.

"I just heard that you were involved in a confrontation today in the village that drew a crowd," accused Tavington. "And I had to hear it from two of the Wilkins' servants speaking of it. Really, Melanie! Acting like a fishwife! That is below our station!"

"William, I—"

"I have got a business to run here," he said in a furious voice. "Your actions reflect on that! We both have past bad reputations that we are hoping will die. Actions such as yours today only calls attention to them."

"I didn't start it," Melanie said quietly, knowing she was no match for his husband when he was this irate.

"That doesn't matter!" William growled. "You should have never engaged in something like that. You should have walked away."

"I tried to," she pleaded. "It was Benjamin Martin. He confronted me. He blocked my path."

"Even more so that it was Martin," stated the General. "He is a dangerous man. I don't want you anywhere near him. You should have walked away and told me of it tonight."

"I tried to walk away," explained Melanie. "He pushed me against a wall and held me there. That is part of what drew the crowd, I am sure."

"He handled you?" asked William, his countenance changing to disbelief.

"Yes! Bridget spoke up, telling him that I was pregnant and to leave me alone," Mrs. Tavington answered, "but he wouldn't let go of me."

"He tried to say that your military actions were unjust," she continued, "acting as though you had singled out he and his family for some unknown reason. I tried to tell him that his family, and my own, were victims of the circumstance of war, that sometimes innocent people get hurt. I had to defend your actions."

Will sighed, then pulled Melanie to him. Holding her for a moment, he kissed her head, then tipped her chin up with his fingers to look down at her. "I can defend myself."

"I know," she relented, "But you weren't there."

Mrs. Tavington walked out of her husband's embrace and over to the window. She crossed her arms in front of her and shivered. "I'm sorry if I hurt our reputations, or the business with my actions," Melanie apologized. "But that man was so insulting of our honor today."

She took a deep breath, then let it out. Melanie went on. "He just seemed so Hell bent on revenge."

"Of course," Tavington said in a low, sarcastic voice. "He's crazy."

"Hmmmm…Is there something you haven't told me?" asked William's wife. "Mrs. Martin acted strangely about him, saying that he couldn't do much in the condition he was in."

William said nothing, still trying to take in that Martin had accosted his wife in public in the middle of the day. He wondered just how far the man's disease had progressed.

"Are we in danger?" asked Melanie. "When we were first married months ago, he sent that horrid letter to you. You promised me we were safe; that it was nothing."

"We're not in danger," said Will, turning away from her.

"Then why do you say he's crazy?"

William sighed, still looking away from Melanie. Obviously, she hadn't heard any rumors of the militia leader's sickness.

The officer turned back to his wife. "He has Syphilis. He's going insane."

"That may only be a rumor," Mrs. Tavington stated.

"No. It comes from Jim Wilkins, through his sister Adelaide," William remarked. With that he went on to tell Melanie about Ben's former slave mistress and how she and her mulatto child both died of the disease.

"Well, that explains why Mrs. Martin protected him and rushed him away," she stated. Melanie looked out the window over the darkness of the night. "When were you going to tell me all this?"

"I didn't think I needed to," William defended. "It would alarm you for no reason."

Melanie whirled back around to look at her husband. She glared at him. "William, we have two small children in there that need our protection," she reminded, pointing at the wall of the bedroom that joined to the twins' nursery. She continued as her hand went to her swollen belly, "And one on the way."

William unbuttoned her waistcoat and dropped it to the floor, then unloosened his neck stock. "Darling, the disease is so far advanced on him now that I am confident that soon he will be confined to the asylum."

"I hope you're right," said Melanie, "he made threats and—"

"Shhhh," General Tavington said as he drew his wife into his arms. "There is nothing to worry over. I will protect you and the children."

With that, William took his wife's mouth in a long, deep kiss then scooped her body into his arms. The officer carried her to the bed and laid her softly on it. Tavington laid down next to Melanie on the bed, both of them still with their clothes on.

"Now, no more talk of this," William murmured. "No more worries tonight."

"Yes, darling," she whispered.

As he resumed kissing her lips, he pushed the skirt of her dress up as her own fingers began quickly unlacing the top of her dress. After another moment both his hands and hers were pulling the top of her dress down off her shoulders. And soon she cooed as she felt his lips move down her neck to her breasts, where he sucked lustily at her dark pink nipples.

After a moment of this initial passion, a breath escaped Melanie's lips when she felt her husband's finger move to between her legs and slip easily inside her. In another minute, she smiled as she watched her husband part her legs with his knees, then position himself above her in between them. Her eyes drifted down to his waistband, watching him as he pushed his breeches down just enough to expose his stiffened yard.

His sapphire blue eyes were glazed over with lust as he gazed down at his wife. He took her left leg, raised it gently and placed her left ankle on his shoulder. The officer turned his head and nibbled the skin on it, making Melanie shiver. Tavington soon lifted her right leg and put her ankle on his other shoulder, where he kissed it and the calf of her leg softly.

William reached down and took his hardened manhood in hand, and teased Melanie's slickened entrance with the head of it. After only a moment's hesitation, he shoved his hardness into her, eliciting a lusty moan from her lips. Once buried deeply within her, he began to thrust slowly into her with long, lazy strokes.

Melanie responded with a joyful sigh. She arched her back, her head sinking back into the pillow, and closed her eyes. Then she moaned again. "Oh, William darling! I love you so much!"


	80. Chapter 80 Persuasion, Prayer, And Pain

**Author's note: ****Thanks to Trace and Est for input! I apologize for not updating sooner. Wendy started Kindergarten! This is a LONG chapter so settle in when you read it! This story is nearing the end-only about 3-4 more chapters. Thanks again all readers for staying with the story that ballooned into an epic! I'm glad you are enjoying the story! Thanks again.**

**JScorpio**

Chapter 80 Persuasion, Prayer, And Pain

_October – November 1782_

"William! The children! No, oh NO! Mary! Will! They're gone!"

General Tavington was in the second floor sitting room reading a newspaper from London his mother had sent him, enjoying the silence in the house. That quiet was shattered by his wife's frantic screams.

Immediately he jumped from his chair and bolted down the hallway toward the nursery, his wife still crying all the while. He tore through the doorway into the dark bedroom. He stopped at the crib, finding his eight month old twins sleeping soundly. He was puzzled. Then he heard Melanie scream again.

The officer trotted into their bedchamber to see his wife thrashing and tossing about on the bed. He realized that she was still asleep, having a nightmare.

William rushed to the bed and sat down beside her. The man grabbed her body and shook her gently, trying to rouse her.

"Melanie! MELANIE! Wake up, darling!," he called. "You're dreaming. Wake up!"

The young woman woke up with a start, sitting upright and looking around. She had a panicked look on her face with tears in her eyes.

"The twins, they're gone!" she besieged her husband. "William! Please!"

"No darling," he said looking into her eyes. "They're here, still. All is well."

"No, they're gone," she argued.

"No, you were having a bad dream," he urged. "They're fine. They're sound asleep in their bed."

"They are?"

"Yes."

Melanie leaned into her husband, crying onto his shoulder as he held her. After a moment, her sobs subsided and she pulled back from William.

"Do you want to see them," he asked her.

She nodded, still sniffling. With that, Tavington helped his pregnant wife out of bed and escorted her into the nursery. Mrs. Tavington looked into the crib at the two sleeping cherubs, little William and Mary. She touched each one of them and smiled in love and relief.

After a moment of gazing at them, feeling secure that they were safe, the general took his wife's hand and led her back to their room. They got into bed and Melanie wrapped herself in his arms.

"Tell me more about your dream," he murmured, kissing her head.

"I checked on the children and they were gone," she whispered.

"How?"

"It felt like someone took them," replied the young woman.

"Who?" asked Tavington.

"I don't know," she answered, "I just know that they had been kidnapped."

William moved his hand to her rounded belly, rubbing the baby there. "Darling, I know you're worrying about Colonel Martin's threats. I want you to try hard not to because I think it's bad for this little one in here. I can protect you and the childen."

"What about when you are away—"

"Melanie, I don't think he is much to fret over," assured William. "I believe he is near to dying or will be committed very soon."

~/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/~

William looked at his wife sleeping soundly in bed by his side. It had been a couple of weeks since Melanie was cornered and threatened in the village by Benjamin Martin. Since then she'd suffered with insomnia and nightmares of missing children, neither good for a pregnant woman. Tavington realized though that his wife slept soundly the last couple of nights, only awakening to nurse the twins. The officer breathed a sigh of relief at this.

He sat up and swung his legs out of the bed, then rose from it. The general then padded softly across the floor to the bureau where he found an outfit for the autumn day. He dressed as quietly as he could, not wanting to wake Melanie, knowing the rest would be good for her and his child within her womb.

Soon the man picked up his boots and stockings and carried them from the room, silently closing the door behind him. William paused at the door of the nursery, looking in to catch a glimpse of his sleeping infants. The officer smiled at them, then turned and left the room. He descended the steps to the first floor as quietly as a mouse.

Once in the main gallery downstairs, he sat down, placing his boot and socks on the floor before him. He pulled on his stockings as he looked at the clock on the wall opposite him. It was six in the morning.

The general could hear the servants going about their morning work in the preparation kitchen. He could also smell the smoke coming from the cooking kitchen outside through the open side door the servants used. The smell of fresh baking bread filled his nostrils, making his stomach growl with hunger.

The chime of the clock pulled the man from his thoughts. He pulled on his boots as Mrs. Sloane whisked into the room.

"Oh, General," she said, a hint of surprise in her voice. "Good morning. Would you like something to drink?"

"Yes. Coffee if we have it," he requested. "I know that we, and everyone else for that matter, are short on it, but I'll try to see if I can get some more somewhere."

"That would be grand, sir," the main servant said with a smile.

"Mrs. Tavington is not to be disturbed this morning," William ordered politely. "I'd like her to rest."

"Of course, sir," Mrs. Sloane dutifully replied. The woman soon disappeared toward the kitchen area.

William reached to just below his knees and buttoned his breeches, then pushed them down into his boots. The general stood, now fully dressed save for his jacket. He put his arms above his head and stretched his body, then shook his head, still not fully awake. Just as quickly as he finished, Mrs. Sloane appeared handing him his coffee.

The officer took the cup and thanked the servant. He took a few sips and made his way toward the front door. Once there, Tavington opened it, finding the early morning rather mild.

He leaned against the doorway, looking out over the front green, surveying all that was his. William took a sip of his coffee as he looked up at the sky, which showed the first rays of morning. The man sighed as his gaze traveled downward to the lawn again, where he caught a strange flicker of light out of the corner of his eye. He looked again at a large tree just feet from the front porch, where a glint of light seemed to reflect from the bark.

Puzzled, General Tavington set his coffee down on the porch railing and made his way down the steps. He walked across the lane, then into the grass and soon found himself at the tree. There, he found an Indian tomahawk skewering a note to the tree. The officer pulled the hatchet from the bark and looked at the letter. It was embossed with an unbroken wax seal in the bottom corner bearing the letter "M".

His eyes narrowed and lips drew tight as he read the note. It said:

_Tavington,_

_Your house and farm will burn._

_Your children, too, shall die._

The general didn't have to guess that the letter came from Benjamin Martin. He was furious at the man's threats, yet amazed at just how insane the former militia colonel had become. The disease was obviously taking its toll, leaving the farmer mad enough to be beyond caring about his actions. But it was enough to scare William and know that he was right in believing threats made by the man, though he kept that fear from Melanie.

Yes, if Colonel Martin was crazy enough to come onto Tavington's homestead, and this close to the house, then Will could gauge easily just how far gone the man was. He decided to keep the threat to himself, and would hide the tomahawk and note. William was concerned over Melanie in her delicate condition and didn't need her worrying anymore than what she already was.

Will discreetly walked to the horse barn, where he bundled and tied the tomahawk and note into a blanket, then tucked them into his saddlebag. He hoped that no one would find them there.

The officer walked back to the house, picking his coffee up off the railing. He figured that the slaves and farmhands hadn't seen Martin's little display, for they would have brought it to him. As far as he knew, he was the first and only one to find it.

William walked up the steps to the second floor, trying to keep his booted feet as quiet as possible. He felt the urgent need to check his family. The man first looked in on is children. He was relieved to find the twins still sleeping. He bent over the crib and gave each a gentle kiss. Then he walked the few steps into his own bedchamber. Tavington walked to the side of the bed and gazed at his beautiful wife, sleeping with a slight smile on her face. He leaned over, placing a hand on Melanie's swollen belly where she carried his child, then kissed her softly on the cheek.

"I love you," he whispered. "Don't worry. I'll take care of you and the children."

William resolved right then to take care of the worrisome militia colonel. Tavington wasn't sure what he would do yet, but he knew he had to handle the Martin situation on his own.

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Two days later, William left his wife and family to check on the new mill being built at Abbington. He told her that he would only be gone a day and a night. The general went alone, much to Melanie's dismay, and out of uniform. He promised her that he'd be discreet and travel off the main roads.

What Mrs. Tavington didn't know was that her husband lied to her, doing so out of necessity. He had to have an excuse to cover him as he took care of business with Benjamin Martin and his family.

General Tavington wasn't thinking about lying to his wife when he stole onto Drakespar, the Selton and Martin plantation. Instead the officer was focused on the task at hand, which was dealing with the insane Colonel Martin.

As Will made his way hidden in the woods and brush around the plantation, he barely remembered it save for the grand main house, which he and his men had burnt down. It had been months since he was there, and it was at night. As he moved and looked about, he recalled things that James Wilkins had told him about this farm.

William remembered that this had been the plantation that was the family home of the Selton's. When the late John Selton died, it was inherited by his wife at the time, Charlotte Putnam. Martin, too had a large farm that had been burnt by the dragoons. His family had moved from there after it was destroyed to reside with their aunt.

Now that the former Mrs. Selton was married to Colonel Martin, she sold Martin's farm land. Gone, too, was the Putnam grand mansion in Charles Towne, confiscated by the British. The whole Martin family now, including the new child Mrs. Martin had with Benjamin, lived here.

The one thing about the plantation that General Tavington recollected clearly was the grand main house which when last he laid eyes upon it, was in flames. It had been rebuilt, and many of the outbuildings survived that night, as well. William had staked this area out from the surrounding woods, watching the comings and goings of the servants and family. He was close enough to hear two servants talking to each other, speaking of the mistress readying for a walk of the farm.

This was all William needed to hear. He moved quickly through the woods to a remote corner of the plantation, near a swamp, where he could watch. He silently staked himself out there, waiting. He banked on the fact that the mistress, carrying a heavy load of running a farm, caring for a baby, a sick husband, and the five remaining Martin children who had become rebellious and wild, would want relief. This remote glade on her property, he hoped, would be her point of solace, for it was quiet and deserted.

Before he retreated into his place, he chopped down a small tree over the trampled path in the grass. He deliberately left the tomahawk in the tree to be seen. William crouched low in the brush at the tree line, watching intently.

As he waited, he thought back over the decision he'd made and was content with it. Tavington knew that with Martin in the throes of insanity, that there would be no reasoning with him. He knew that the one way to get what he wanted, was to go through Mrs. Martin.

After an hour or so, he caught sight of Mrs. Martin emerging from a tree lined lane. As he watched her leave the road and stroll into the grass, he noticed that she was still beautiful, a fact that had not escaped him months ago. But now she looked sad, worn and tired.

Through his long glass, he saw her face twist into a quizzical expression as she noticed the felled sapling across the path. Her mouth dropped open when she realized it was her husband's weapon stuck in the bark.

William smiled as the woman took the bait, walking right to the tree. The officer padded quietly through the grass up behind her. As she raised up from the tree, he clasped her from behind, clamping his hand solidly over her mouth. She struggled for an instant until the man put his pistol to her temple.

The woman gasped behind his hand. He brought his mouth down close to her ear. "Scream and I'll put a bullet in your head," he warned in a low voice. "Try to run and I'll shoot you. I'm an excellent marksman and I _will not_ miss. Do you understand?"

The scared woman nodded mutely. Charlotte was turned by him, all the while he kept her firmly in his grasp.

"Do not test me, Mrs. Martin. You know what I am capable of and _I won't hesitate_ to hurt you if I have to."

Charlotte's eyes widened as she recognize General Tavington, not in uniform. He grabbed her arm and ushered her into the woods, keeping his gun drawn on her the whole time.

Tavington took a bit of rope from his belt and quickly lashed the Martin woman's wrists tightly together. With her hands bound in front of her, William then pulled her thin shawl off her shoulders and twisted it quickly. He wrapped it around her head, gagging the woman to keep her silent. He pushed her back squarely into a large tree, holding her there with his weapon.

"Mrs. Martin, is this your husband's tomahawk?" Tavington held the weapon up in front of her, displaying it as if it were a piece of finery.

She nodded yes. Her eyes betrayed her, clearly showing her fright to her attacker.

"Of course it is," the general agreed with her. He then reached one hand into his jacket and pulled out a piece of paper, which he again held up to the woman's face. "And is this your husband's writing and the Martin seal?"

William watched her eyes intently as they darted back and forth, reading the content of the note. He saw her body sink a bit as she sighed.

"I found this pinned to a tree on my farm," Tavington began. "Clearly, your husband has been there recently to pay my family a visit. I found it there in the morning—it wasn't there the evening before so he came in the middle of the night. Odd time to come calling, don't you think?"

"Your husband can't seem to control himself in public anymore," William stated. "You were there when he accosted my wife and Mrs. Wilkins in the village. Mrs. Martin, if you can't manage him, then something needs to be done to take care of that."

The pretty blonde looked up at him, her eyes wide in mute terror. She wasn't sure what this man's next move was. Mrs. Martin wasn't sure if he was going to hurt her, her husband, or what.

"I hope that you and I can come to some kind of agreement on that now." General Tavington looked down at her menacingly, his ice blue eyes burning, showing that he meant business and was not a man to be argued with.

The officer continued. "It's obvious. He is sick, insane and you can no longer contain him. He needs to be confined so that he can't hurt anyone."

The woman knew the hidden meaning behind the butcher's words: he meant so that Benjamin couldn't hurt _his family. _Tears came to Charlotte Martin's eyes. It was true that she couldn't manage Ben's erratic actions anymore.

The officer bent his tall frame down close to the woman, his face close to hers. "It's time that you send him away to the asylum. Do you understand?"

The woman nodded, tears in her eyes. She hoped he would leave now, having made his point to her and she agreeing to it.

"I need assurance that you will do as I wish." With that, he grabbed Mrs. Martin from where she leaned against the tree. He shoved her down, bending her body forward over a large fallen tree. She struggled, her cries muffled by her own shawl gagging her.

William threw the back of her skirts up, exposing her bare ass end. With his gloved hand, he inserted a finger into her vagina, then another one. She became moist very quickly. The man was is astonished at how quickly she did.

Mrs. Martin continued to struggle, shaking her head in disbelief as the man invaded her. It was to no avail, he held her down firmly.

"It's amazing how fast that Yankee quim of yours became wet," he taunted. "Could that be because you lack male attention? Of course. I'm sure you haven't been touched there in awhile."

"Well, you must want a bit of something in it," Tavington continued to tease. The general withdrew his fingers. He then slowly pushed the plain, straight handle of the tomahawk into her moistness.

The woman screamed again, her cries lost within the material of her shawl and the remoteness of the forest. She began to weep at the humiliation and pain of this act.

"Well, something of your husband's _has_ found its way into you," he jeered. "Close your eyes and imagine that its him. Perhaps you'll even find some pleasure in it."

After he fucked the woman for a few moments with her husband's weapon, he felt her sufficiently scared and intimidated, and withdrew it from her. Tavington let her go, no longer restraining her, knowing very well she couldn't run now.

Charlotte felt faint. She sank to the ground by the log, with her womanhood throbbing in pain, and thoroughly shamed. The woman flinched as the officer bent down to undo her gag. Tavington dropped the shawl, which dropped to the ground in front of the poor woman. He then threw Martin's tomahawk down, making her jump in fear again. It skewered the shawl to the ground. Just inches in front of her now, Mrs. Martin stared at the handle of the weapon in disbelief, slick with her womanly fluid and blood.

The general pulled his dagger from his boot holster and cut the woman's rope bonds from her wrist. He carefully collected the pieces of rope, not wanting to leave any evidence behind. Then he grabbed the other end of her shawl and wiped the tomahawk handle off with it. He wadded the wrap into a ball and threw it down to the woman, now with a hole in it and stained with her fluid.

"I'll be keeping these with me, of course," William said as he tucked the tomahawk into his sword belt, and pocketed Benjamin Martin's damning letter.

"Should you choose to speak of what happened here today and of our little agreement to anyone, then it will be your word against mine," Tavington threatened. "I will deny it all, then show the authorities your husband's little souvenirs and threats here that he left for my family. I'm sure the magistrate will be interested in them. Then they will hang him."

"I am warning you—lock him away. If you don't, I will come back for another visit to you. And if you make me have to return, I won't be happy about it, and I can assure you, that things will be most unpleasant for you. It will be worse than it was today."

With that, Tavington turned and was gone within seconds, leaving nothing, other than a battered and severely frightened and shaken Charlotte Martin behind.

As he trod back through the woods to where his horse was, tied to a tree by the stream, he remembered his wife. He recalled how Colonel Harry Burwell had raped her brutally with the handle of his dagger, intimidating and breaking the spirit of the young woman. And now, William had just done nearly the same thing to another woman, breaking her down and scaring her into doing something he wanted. It was that moment that he vowed to himself that Melanie must never, ever find out what he'd done.

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It was now mid November, a couple of weeks after Tavington had paid his visit to Charlotte Martin, and he'd heard nothing of Benjamin Martin's whereabouts, but had thankfully no more midnight visits from the insane militia colonel, either. William hoped for the time being that no news was good news.

The general's wife was now six months along. She hadn't felt or slept well the night before, so Tavington left her at home when he rode out on an errand today. On the way home, he stopped at the Wilkins' farm. He was met at the front porch before he could even dismount.

"General," Josephine the maid, yelled, "Major Wilkins is on horseback trying to find you."

"I didn't see him," Tavington replied. "Why?"

"It's your wife! You're needed at home immediately! Mrs. Wilkins is already there with her!"

"What's wrong?" a concerned Tavington asked, trying to stay calm.

"I'm not sure. One of your servants came looking for you here, and ended up taking Mrs. Wilkins back with him."

With that, Tavington drove his heels into the horse and headed at a run toward his plantation. Home within a few moments, William tore up the front steps and into the house. He could hear Melanie screaming in pain and ran up the stairs.

"Melanie!" He threw the bedroom door open to find Mrs. Sloan, Diedre, and Mrs. Wilkins trying to calm his wife, who was writhing in pain on the bed. Bridget, eight months pregnant herself, sat next to the bed, holding her hand.

Mrs. Wilkins looked at the worried officer and spoke for Melanie, who could do nothing but groan. "Mrs. Sloane said she woke up in pain this morning, and she's been bleeding. The doctor and midwife have been sent for."

"It's….too early," William said in disbelief, watching his wife crying in pain. He sat down next to her and took her other hand, amazed at how hard she was squeezing it.

After a few moments, Melanie turned her head and looked at her husband. Her eyes and face were full of pleading. "William, please help me. Help our baby."

William's heart broke as she begged him. What could he do? "The doctor and midwife will be here shortly, darling. Everything will be fine. Keep holding on."

"Don't leave me," she begged.

"I won't," he promised. "I will be right beside you."

After another hour of anxious pain, the midwife, Mrs. Bronner finally appeared. As she was taking off her shawl she began giving instructions to the women. Then she positioned herself at the end of the bed. "Draw your legs up, Mrs. Tavington. I need to examine you to see how close you are."

"No! No!," the girl screamed. "It's not time yet! He's not coming yet." She refused to bring her legs up.

"Darling, please let her help you, darling," her husband said in a gentle voice, nearly pleading with her.

Melanie frantically grabbed Will's sleeve as he rose to leave. "Will, no! I'm not having this baby yet. I know that's not it! It's something else."

"Yes darling, but you must let her look at you to confirm that," Tavington said, nearly begging.

William left the room and let the women work. He closed the door behind him and went to the alcove where he dropped down into a chair. The officer closed his eyes, hoping they could do something for his wife's pain for she cried so loudly. Then he began to pray for his wife and baby within her womb.

Mrs. Wilkins came out to rest and tend to the twins. She stood before the General and tried to reassure him. "I know they will do all they can for her."

He nodded in silence, worried for Melanie, as Bridget left the room to take care of Mary and Will.

In the bedroom, the women were still working on the pregnant woman. "Mrs. Tavington, draw your knees up again, please," Mrs. Bronner requested. Melanie did so, crying as she did, and begging for her to help the baby.

There was another hour of agonizing pain for Melanie before she finally fainted. It would be a long afternoon and equally as long night.

~/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/~

William sat with an unconscious wife all night long, holding her hand. Every once in awhile she would groan. Her fever had broken, but she was still a little warm to his touch.

Finally, her eyes fluttered open. She turned her head to look at her husband, dozing in the chair beside the bed holding her hand. "William."

Tavington opened his eyes to look at Melanie. He looked worn and weary. "How do you feel?"

"A bit of pain," she whispered, her hands moving to her abdomen, which she caressed through the quilt.

Silence passed between the two for a long moment. William sat forward in his chair, looking forlorn. He looked down at the floor as he broke the quiet.

"Melanie," he began, his voice trembling, "the baby is gone."

Mrs. Tavington closed her eyes for a moment. Her head was pounding. She knew she hadn't heard him correctly with the throbbing of her headache.

She looked at him, puzzled. "What?"

William felt so much pain to have to say it again. "He's gone. It was too early and he was stillborn."

She glared at him, not understanding why he was saying it. Melanie grunted with pain as she pushed herself up to sitting. "No! You're lying! It's not time for him to come yet."

The young woman started to pull the covers back, her hands moving to her abdomen. "No! He's fine!" Then Mrs. Tavington started to get out of bed.

"Melanie, you can't! You have to stay in bed," William tried to keep her in.

She pushed him away and scurried out, with much pain, the other side of the bed. "Get away from me."

"I'm still carrying him!" she shouted as she traipsed to the full length mirror.

"Melanie please!" Will begged.

The girl quickly pulled her shift up above her belly. She looked at her side view in the mirror and noticed that her abdomen now carried a different way. Where the baby was seemed to have dropped lower, and her belly, while still rounded a bit, wasn't as full as it was just a couple of days ago.

Her hands flew to her middle and began to touch it crazily. She caressed it, then pushed on it, frantically moving her hands from place to place about it.

She panicked when things felt different. Her abdomen was not firm anymore as when carrying a fetus. It was soft.

Melanie shook her head in disbelief and began to wail. She shouted frantically! "No! NO! Where is he?" She thought this was a cruel joke. "I want my son! I want my baby back!"

After another look in the mirror at her belly, she let out a blood curdling scream. Then her knees buckled and she fell to the floor, crying hysterically. She curled into a fetal position, crying, "I want to see him! I want him back!"

Tavington ran to her, gathering her body into his arms, against him. As he rocked her, she grabbed fists full of his shirt, pulling on it frantically. "I want to see my son! Bring him to me!"

"I can't, Melanie," Tavington said, fighting his own tears, hating to see his wife with a broken heart.

"WHERE IS HE!" she screamed hysterically.

"He's buried, darling," William murmured. "You had him yesterday. He's dead. There was nothing that could be done."

Melanie collapsed against his chest, burying her face and weeping horribly. Will, still holding her close in his arms, picked her up and put her back in bed, climbing in with her.

Mrs. Sloane heard the commotion and was soon pounding at the door. Sticking her head in at the terrible scene, she asked "What do you need me to do, sir?"

"Nothing, right now, just….just give us time alone," he requested. "No visitors."

"Yes sir," she answered.

"And please, send for the Reverend Beck to come out from town," he asked. "We need him."

"I will," she replied.

When the door closed, he reclined down into bed, holding Melanie's trembling body against his. She was racked with sobs.

"Why couldn't I see him?" she wept.

"We thought it best you didn't," Will said.

Melanie pulled back from her husband. "You saw him? Did you hold him?"

"Yes. I saw him," Will answered painfully. He remembered the horrible sight of his dead, stillborn son. The baby, as a six month fetus, was about eight inches in length. He recalled how blood covered the baby boy was. He also thought that the poor little thing's face was a bit swollen, for the cord was wrapped about its neck. The officer touched the baby, recollecting how thin the skin felt, and how fragile his little body was. It was a sight that he would never forget for the rest of his life, leaving his heart broken and aching for the baby boy.

"I didn't hold him," Will continued. "He was so tiny and was blood covered. I touched him for a moment. He was wrapped in towels held by the midwife."

Melanie cried harder now. Just two days ago she was carrying a baby, feeling him move, and so happy to be pregnant again. She couldn't wait to have him. Now he was gone and her womb was empty.

"Reverend Beck was summoned," William murmured to his wife, "And the baby was given a proper Christian burial. He is near your family."

Melanie Tavington cried for over an hour, her husband holding her all the while. After a period shaky calm filled with sniffles, the young woman asked in a whisper, "Was he named?"

"Yes. I named him."

"What is his name?" she asked tearfully.

"Worthe Caldwell Tavington," he answered. Will took the maiden names of both their mothers and named him after their families.

"How could this happen, William?" she sobbed. "I wanted him so much."

"I did, too, darling," Will echoed, his voice quivering. "I did too."

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After a couple of days recovering in bed, Mrs. Tavington was allowed, after begging her husband tearfully, to leave her bedchamber. With William's help, she visited her stillborn son's grave. He had been buried in the Prescott family cemetery on the plantation. He was put into the vacant row in front of where Hayden Prescott and his family lay. William, upon his marriage to Melanie eighteen months ago, had requested that this section be for the Tavington branch of the family. It was heartbreaking to the man that one family member already occupied the plot.

General Tavington held his wife as she cried, kneeling near the simple white cross marking the grave. William had already commissioned a permanent marker from a local stone mason to be placed later.

Tears flowed freely down Melanie's face as she wondered what baby Worthe would have looked like. She wondered also what kind of a child, and then man, he would have become. The girl longed to see the face of the child that had been within her womb only short days ago. Her arms ached to hold the infant son that had moved inside her.

After a few minutes, Melanie contained herself a bit, and stopped crying. She looked up and gazed blindly at her family's gravestones, behind her dead son's.

"William," she spoke in a faraway voice, "Will you be upset with me if I can't give you anymore children?"

"Of course not." He took her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"I just….I…my body," she stammered, sniffling as she did, "My body. My womb. Maybe I can't carry children."

Melanie shook her head as she looked at the ground, trying to collect her thoughts. She went on. "I miscarried Alexander's child at four months. I had trouble with the twins' pregnancy and they were early. And I just had a stillbirth. Maybe I am not meant to have children."

"Melanie, you've given me two beautiful children, and one a male heir. Will and Mary are healthy and perfect. I couldn't ask for anything more!" General Tavington leaned in and kissed his wife's lips softly and lovingly.

"C'mon, it's getting colder out here," a concerned William said. "Let's get you back inside."

The officer wrapped his arm about his wife and helped her into the house. They took slow steps, her body still feeling pain from the birth.

Once inside the door, the sound of hoofs beating hurriedly down the lane made their heads turn. It was James Wilkins. He jumped off the horse and skipped up the steps.

"Good day," he said with a smile as he entered.

The Tavington's greeted him, Will still holding his wife. "I came to tell you that Bridget isn't coming to sit with Melanie today. Jimmy is sick."

"She needs her rest, anyway," Melanie said. "Please give her my regards."

"Diedre, would you please help my wife back upstairs and into bed?", Tavington requested.

"Yes sir." With that, she helped the mistress of the house back up the stairway.

Mrs. Sloane breezed into the front gallery. "Good afternoon, Major Wilkins," she called. "Would you like some tea?"

"Yes, please. Thank you!"

"You look like a man with a secret, Jim," William noted, showing his neighbor into the small parlor.

"Well, I do have some news," he answered.

"And what's that," asked the general as he sat down in the chair by the fireplace.

"I received a letter from Adelaide this morning," he announced.

"And what did your honorable sister have to say," asked Will.

"Benjamin Martin has been sent away," he said. "He has an older brother who moved to the Kentucky territory before the war started. Edward Martin and his wife agreed to take care of him. Apparently their cabin is in the middle of nowhere, so he can't be of a danger to anyone."

"That's a relief," William simply said.

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**Author's note: In this chapter, Tavington makes a comment about trying to obtain some more coffee for Mrs. Sloane. During the American Revolution, coffee and tea, and sugar were in very short supply and hard to get. In homes they were often kept under lock and key. Even the wealthy had problems keeping it on hand.**


	81. Chapter 81 Fear And Respite

**Author's notes: Warning, I am posting this at 3 in the morning, so who knows how many mistakes are in it. I tried to quickly go thru and proofread and correct, but I am sure at this hour, that some things have escaped my tired eyes and mind. I will go back through it tomorrow-well, I guess that is later today, and correct it. Thanks for patience. And again, a sincere thanks for all your comments and compliments, and for reading and staying with this story that has ballooned into an epic. I swear that it is just a few chapters now from the end.**

**JScorpio**

Chapter 81 Fear And Respite

_February 1783….._

William woke up, the urge to relieve himself the culprit. As he stretched his arm across the bed, he noticed that Melanie wasn't in it.

"Melanie?" he called softly.

When there was no answer, he didn't worry. She was probably in the nursery tending to one of the twins. He got out of bed and crossed the room, where he went behind the privacy screen and urinated into the chamber pot.

After that, he walked into the nursery, ready to help his wife with the twins if she needed him. When he didn't see her in there, he entered anyway to check the children. Smiling at how soundly they slept, he left the room and found himself in the hallway.

"Melanie?" he called, still with no response. Now concerned, the officer moved his feet a bit faster, descending the steps to the first floor. Once downstairs, he stood in the still darkness, looking around the room as he did. In a moment, he heard muffled sobs, soon following them into the small parlor.

In the dark, he could discern his wife's crumpled figure on the floor. She leaned on the wingback chair, her face buried in its material.

Tavington crouched down in front of the young woman. Sighing, he spoke softly to her, reaching out and lightly touching her shoulder. "Melanie," he whispered.

She looked up at him and sniffled. He could see the tears glinting on her cheeks in the moonlight through the window. The officer touched her face gently, wiping away a tear with his thumb.

The general took hold of her body and helped her up, sitting her gently down in the chair. He knelt in front of her.

"You had that dream again, didn't you?" asked William.

Mrs. Tavington nodded mutely, wiping at the tears with her hands. She gazed tearfully at her husband.

"Darling, you know it's just a dream," he affirmed. He noticed that she had a book clutched tightly in her hand. The general eased it gently out of her fingers. It was the Prescott family bible, worn and frayed. William opened the front cover and even in the little light in the room, with his dark adjusted eyes, his fingers swept across the name Worthe Caldwell Tavington, their recently stillborn child. A pang of pain touched his heart as he closed the book and placed it back on a nearby table.

"It's always so real," Melanie sobbed. "I hear a baby crying and I know it's him. It's Worthe. I know he is crying for his mama. And I just have to go to him."

William took Melanie into his arms, letting her speak and weep. "I look for him and I can't ever find him." She buried her face in his shoulder, sobbing again.

"Dear, you know he is gone," William reminded gently. "I know this has been difficult for you."

"He wasn't christened," she wept. "I hope he is in Heaven."

"Of course he is, darling," Will assured. "I'm sure your parents are with him and have him in their care."

Melanie nodded.

"Let's go back to bed," urged Tavington. William put his arm about his wife's waist and guided her back up the stairs to their room. They looked in quickly on the twins before they entered their bedchamber.

Once in there, Melanie crossed the room to the window where she looked out over the dark lawn. It was illuminated by the moon. She lowered her eyes and caught sight of a shadow in the opening between the trees. The girl blinked, then looked again, noticing the figure of a man there. Her mouth dropped open as she recognized the man as Benjamin Martin. And he just stood there, looking up at her in the window from the grass.

The young woman let out an audible gasp, covering her mouth with her hand. She couldn't believe her eyes as she had known the man to now be residing in the Kentucky territory, far from here.

William turned at his wife's gasp, seeing the alarm on her face. "What is it?"

Melanie lifted her arm and pointed out the window. "Martin," she answered shakily.

General Tavington ran to the window and caught sight of a man that looked like the same body build as the militia colonel. He didn't see the man's face as the intruder had just turned to run.

William immediately grabbed his pistol and yelled instructions to his wife as he tore from their room. He was barefoot and clad only in his breeches.

"Get in the nursery and lock the door!"

Melanie ran out of the room behind him, flying into Mary and Will's room. She bolted the door behind her and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the two babes still asleep in their crib.

William was shouting to anyone and everyone in the house as he entered the hallway to rouse whatever servants he could. Diedre, fortunately a light sleeper, heard the commotion and emerged instantly from her quarters in the house.

"What is it?" she shouted.

"Wake Mr. Andrews and Barnes," Tavington instructed. "There's an intruder on the grounds! I'm going after him!"

"Yes sir!"

Tavington ran as swiftly as his legs could move once he picked up a trail of mashed down grass on the front green. He ran through the dark with only the moonlight over his shoulder, desperately looking and listening for any sign of the invader.

After a few minutes of running in the dark across the plantation, he could hear the distant shouts of Barnes and Andrews, obviously out and searching, as well. William's adrenalin had coursed through his body, and when his lungs burned with exhaustion and his leg muscles stung with pain, he stopped. The officer looked about and couldn't believe how much ground he had covered by himself.

Standing near the trail to the creek, he looked about again, hoping to hear or see the intruder. He heard nothing, to his disappointment. "Damn," he swore, upset that he couldn't catch Martin on his property.

In just another minute, Mr. Andrews rode up on horseback. William looked up at the farm overseer.

"Any sign?" William asked.

"None, sir," Andrews answered. "Was it a man?"

"Yes," Will said, still trying to catch his breath. "My wife saw his face. She said it was Benjamin Martin."

"The militia colonel?" asked Andrews, a look of puzzlement crossing his face. "I thought he was sent to Kentucky. Do you know for certain?"

"No," General Tavington admitted. "I only caught sight of the back of him. He was short, with the same build of body as Colonel Martin's."

William looked about and sighed in frustration, swearing again. "Damn it!"

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The Tavington's and their servant staff spent a tense rest of the night locked in the mansion, pacing the floors. Melanie and William sequestered themselves in the twins' nursery, sleeping, or rather trying to, in the small bed near their crib.

The next morning came, finding General Tavington tired and apprehensive. He had been called to report to duty again in Camden. He didn't like leaving his family with Martin, clutched in the throes of Syphilitic insanity, in the area. William wondered why the man, who had been sent to live out what was left of his diseased life with his brother in the Kentucky territory, was back now. Had he made his own way home? Had his own family sent him home? Had Mrs. Martin requested he be sent home? The only thing that the officer was certain of was that he had to protect his family with the former militia commander nearby.

Despite his worries, he managed a smile when he picked up his one year old son. He held the boy, tugging at his uniform, close and whispered in his ear. "Now remember what I said, Will. Papa is leaving so while I am gone, you are the man of the house. Take care of your mother and sister."

William chuckled at his own private joke with his toddler son, then kissed the boy's head. "I love you, my boy. Be good for Mama while I'm away."

He felt tugging on his breeches. "Da da!" William looked down to spy his daughter pulling herself up to standing, wanting to be held. Tavington put his son into Diedre's arms, and picked up his daughter, her arms raised, begging to be picked up.

"Ah, my little Mary," he said as he picked up his daughter. "Daddy has to leave for a few days. And I will miss you so much. Be good for mommy. I love you."

With a kiss on her head, he then gave her to Mrs. Sloane. The girl began to fuss and reach for her papa, but the servant soon disappeared into the parlor, taking the little thing to play with her brother and Diedre.

With that, William donned his civilian coat and descended the stairway from the veranda, with his wife following. He quickly folded and packed his red uniform coat into his saddle bag, talking with Melanie as he did.

"I sent Ezra into town this morning to ask the constable to come out to the house today," he informed. "Tell him what you saw and hopefully he will investigate."

"William, I know what I saw," Melanie began in a shaky voice, "and I wish you weren't leaving. I'm afraid."

He took his wife's hands in his, rubbing them gently. "I know you are. I spoke with the servants this morning and everyone knows to be alert and careful. And while I'm gone, the children will sleep with you in our bedchambers. Mr. Barnes and Mr. Andrews are moving into the spare rooms in the house temporarily to protect you."

Melanie leapt forward, wrapping her arms around William, burying her face in his chest. "Please, hurry back! I love you."

With that, Tavington looked down and took his wife's mouth in a long, sweet kiss. "I love you, too."

William reluctantly pulled from her embrace to mount his horse. Melanie reached up and took his gloved hand, a look of concern on her face.

"All will be well," he said, wishing to assuage her fears. "Just be alert and aware. Stay near the house."

Melanie nodded her head, then watched apprehensively as her husband rode away.

~/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/~

It was now mid afternoon, hours after General Tavington had left this morning. Melanie found herself outside showing Constable Evans where she saw Colonel Martin standing the night before. For the past hour, she'd answered questions from the officer, and given her own testimony as well. She cooperated fully, letting the constable stand at the window in her bedchamber to see the lawn from that vantage point, and let him look about the grounds for any clues.

Through the hour, Melanie had felt that the constable was sorry he'd answered their summons, and that he desired to be elsewhere. She had hoped that he would be willing and eager to help her since he'd held her family in such high esteem just years earlier. The girl remembered how much the constable had respected her late father. But he acted differently toward her now.

Evans and Mrs. Tavington continued talking as they walked from the spot between the trees where Colonel Martin has stood just hours earlier. He seemed anxious to leave as he neared his horse, leaving Melanie feeling cold and desperate.

"Mrs. Tavington, I'm afraid there isn't much I can do about this," he began, toying with his hat in his hands. "Colonel Martin was sent away to the Kentucky territory weeks ago, I'm told. Yet you claim you saw him here. Your husband saw the same man, but didn't see his face. And nothing was left behind—"

"Constable Evans," she interrupted, crossing her arms in front of her, trying to stay cool, "I can tell that you're not anxious to help us because I was Brutal Bordon's whore, and now I'm married to Tavington the Butcher. And I can understand that there will always be those who will never forgive our past sins."

The man immediately felt uncomfortable. He spoke up, trying to defend himself. "Madam, it's just that—"

"Constable," she broke in again, "Is it your job to uphold the law for _all_ the people or just the rebel sympathizers?"

The man sighed, knowing that Mrs. Tavington's words, which struck a nerve, were legitimate. "For all the people, of course," he answered with a humble nod of his head.

Melanie pointed to Diedre, who was letting the children, who had just recently learned to walk, toddle about on the lawn. "Those are my—our—children," she informed, her voice trembling a bit, "They just turned one. They didn't ask to be born to parents with such past bad reputations. They are innocent of _our_ sins. Please don't hold what William and I have done against them."

She sighed, looking at Evans as he observed the children walking about with Diedre's help. "If you won't help my husband and me, I understand that. But please protect my children, who've done nothing wrong."

The constable suddenly felt ashamed that he treated Mrs. Tavington differently than he would've had another good family with rebel leanings. He would have never treated her that way if her family were still alive. The officer felt even worse that the woman stood before him admitting her own sins, yet begging him to help her innocent children.

"Very well, Mrs. Tavington," he conceded. "I will make a report and pursue an investigation."

Melanie closed her eyes and let out a breath, feeling a bit of relief. "Thank you," she said, trying to hold back tears.

"But I can't guarantee what kind of results I will get," he began, holding up a finger as if to caution her. "You are right. The families around here have good memories, and when I begin to investigate, I have no doubt that some of the rebels will get a bad case of Lockjaw, not wanting to talk or help. But…I will try. You have my word on that."

With that, Evans mounted his horse and tipped his hat to the general's wife. She nodded back and thanked him again.

Mrs. Tavington watched the man trot away down the lane. Then she turned and watched the twins again, toddling about on the lawn, seeming to fall more than walk. The smile that had been on her face in gazing at her children soon turned to a frown. She studied them an instant more, then sighed and looked down at the ground.

Melanie turned away from the group and looked out over the plantation. She fought tears once more at actually having to hear the truth of what people in the region thought of her family now. But at least now she knew for certain where they stood. Then and there, she vowed that she and William would find a way, without any help, to protect their home, business and family.

~/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/~

Melanie sat quietly in the Prescott and Tavington family cemetery, enjoying the mild and unusual warmth of the February day. Although she sat silently, in the peaceful calm, her mind was whirling with thoughts. She thought about her visit with Constable Evans two weeks ago and how he had promised to help her with the Benjamin Martin situation. She had not heard back from the lawman, but neither had there been any more disturbances from the former militia colonel.

The young woman also thought of her stillborn son, Worthe. It was his grave that she sat on. She thought about how she would be giving birth to him in just days if her body would not have expelled him early. Melanie looked down at her stomach, placing her hand on her now flat middle, resting it over her empty womb. She caressed the area, feeling sad that she couldn't feel that infant son kicking her anymore. The general's wife lifted the same hand and traced the letters on the grave marker, that the stone mason had just placed days ago.

"He would have been born soon."

The voice pulled Mrs. Tavington from her thoughts. She looked up and smiled. "William, I'm glad you're home," she said, smiling at him.

The tall officer knelt down and kissed her. "Me, too," he replied. Tavington reached out to caress her face with his hand, resting it on her cheek. "I know this has been hard for you."

Melanie looked into his eyes and forced a smile. "I'll be fine." She leaned forward and put her arms around her husband to welcome him home. She rested in his embrace as he ran his fingers through her long, blonde hair, left loose today.

William pulled his wife up to her feet. The couple linked hands and began to stroll slowly toward his horse, hitched to a tree not far from the cemetery. General Tavington had returned and saw his wife in the cemetery. Instead of stopping at the house and leaving his steed with a stable boy, he rode straight out to greet his wife.

"How were things these past two weeks?" asked William as they walked along.

"Everything was fine. Martin didn't come back," Melanie informed.

"Did the constable come out?"

"Yes."

Melanie stopped and looked down at the ground. William looked quizzically at his wife.

"We're on our own, William."

"What?"

She sighed, then continued. "I got the distinct feeling from the Constable that he wasn't pleased at working with Brutal Bordon's Whore and her husband the Carolina Butcher."

William rolled his eyes. He couldn't believe that people of the area could not understand his role as an officer and his duty, and that his wife did what she needed to do to stay alive and keep her sanity. But then, General Tavington would never realize that they were just common citizens that got swept up in war, witnessing and living through the horrors of it.

"He promised to make an investigation," she informed, "but said that the people around here have good memories and that he doubted they would want to help us."

"Hmmm…Very well, then," sniffed William. "I could do a better job of protecting my family than any town constable can."

His wife smiled and laced her arm back through his. He would always be a fierce warrior until the day he died, she thought.

They sauntered along a little further, leaving the cemetery and walking toward William's horse. The general stopped as they walked, letting go of his wife as he did. Melanie gave him a questioning look for he appeared as though he had some news for her.

"What is it?" she asked.

"I've been discharged," he proclaimed. "I'm no longer an officer of the Crown."

Melanie could tell that he was disappointed, yet trying to be stoic about it. She felt his disappointment, as well, and let out a sad sigh.

"William," she began in nearly a whisper, shaking her head as she did, "I'm so sorry, darling."

She immediately went to him and wrapped her arms about his body. He slipped his arms around her as well, holding her close to him and reveling in the feeling. Tavington was glad to have an understanding and loving wife.

"I know this has been your life," she said, looking up at him.

He looked down at his wife, still in his embrace. "Thus far," he said. "I'll have to get used to not being a soldier anymore."

They parted from their embrace, took hands and strolled along again. "I could have stayed on—they still need officers; generals. But I would have had to move us all to England. And from there, we may have had to move to yet another country. I just didn't want to uproot you and the children, and even be parted from you again for long months. And, I like South Carolina. I've grown to love our plantation."

They continued walking along, Melanie quiet as she let William speak his heart. "I love being a father and a husband, which has helped this. And I like running the mills; being a business owner. So far I've liked owning this plantation."

"You are a good plantation master," Melanie said.

The two walked a few more steps in silence, William thinking about life as a private citizen, and Melanie concerned about her husband adjusting to it. She knew that he loved being a soldier.

Mrs. Tavington broke the silence. "My father loved being a farmer. He loved doing business with the people of the area, and having his family close by his side while he did."

Tavington stopped again and took his wife's face in his hand, stroking her soft lips and cheek with his thumb. Staring lovingly down into her eyes he spoke. "And I know that I will grow to love it just as much, with you and the children near me."

"Oh, Will," she murmured, rising up on her toes to give him a sweet kiss.

"I'll be fine," he assured her as their lips parted. "All will be well."

After a few more steps, they were soon standing next to William's horse. Melanie knew that her husband must be tired from his trip and would want to rest a bit. She smiled sweetly at him, ready to tell her that she would meet him at the house after his horse was stabled.

Tavington grabbed her hand and pulled her to him, giving her a long kiss. His wife pulled away from him,catching her breath as she did. He quickly twisted her body to where she faced away from him, and slipped his arms around her waist. The officer pulled her body back against his so that he could bend down and whisper in her ear.

"Take a ride with me around the plantation now," Will murmured.

"Don't you want to see the children, then rest a bit?"

"Yes, but I can do that in a little while," he said. "Right now, I want a few minutes alone with you; something we never seem to get anymore save for at night when we are both exhausted."

"Alright," Melanie agreed. She couldn't remember when the last time was she had ridden with him on his horse. She felt elated to have a few minutes alone with William; even if just to tour the farm.

After a moment to mount the beast, the couple were off on their jaunt about the plantation. They talked of mundane things as they walked along, with Melanie briefing him on what she knew of the business, then throwing in tidbits of what antics their newly toddling children had been up to the last week.

After riding along in silence for a moment, William broke the quiet. "Jim was discharged, as well."

"Oh?" Melanie said, turning her head back to look at her husband.

"Yes. And I know you have already surmised that he chose to stay and keep running his inherited business," William smirked.

Melanie laughed. "Well, how can the winery and brewery run without him?"

"By the way," Tavington said, "We've been invited to the Wilkins' for dinner tonight. As a sort of celebratory and retirement from the King's service."

The Tavington's rode on a little further until they came to some trees in a secluded grove out of the view of the busy farm. Will dismounted and helped his wife down. He retrieved a couple of blankets from one of his saddlebags, took Melanie's hand, and walked with her a few yards to a large maple tree. Once there, he spread out one of the blankets on the ground and partially unfolded the other one, wanting to keep it nearby lest the mild winter day, which felt more like a warm spring one, turned cold.

The couple sat down on the blanket, loving their respite from the busy life of parenting and running a large plantation. The two were facing each other, just enjoying the quiet and looking at one another's smiling faces.

Melanie broke the silence, taking his hand. "William, I'm so happy that you're home," the young woman proclaimed. "I miss you so much when you are away."

His cobalt blue eyes looked at her face, searching it and seeing longing, desire, and joy in it. His eyes found hers, and locked with them. "I love you so much. And I feel like I just keep falling more and more in love with you every day," she declared in a soft voice.

Tavington's heart and soul felt completely warm and secure. "I feel the same."

He sighed, and looked away, as if gazing out at something unseen over his wife's shoulder. The man faltered, unable to voice what it was he wanted—needed—to say.

"I wish I could put into words what is in my heart, and soul," he admitted. His wife cocked her head to the side, listening intently to what William needed to say.

"I love you and the children so deeply," he began, "And I feel like things have changed for me. I feel so differently than I felt just even five years ago."

She stayed quiet, wanting her husband to speak freely. "I am ashamed to admit that back then I was so selfish. I wanted glory to come from my fighting. I wasn't sure that I ever wanted to be married and have children. And I only cared for myself and what was best for me and I liked it that way."

William took a breath, held it, then let it out slowly. He went on. "And now, I can't imagine life without you and the twins. And I don't want it without you. I don't think of myself first anymore. I think of what is best for you, Mary and Will, and I like it that way."

With that he reached forward and pulled his wife onto his lap. She slid her arms about his body as he held her close.

"Oh William," she whispered, nearly sounding relieved at his words. Yet she had felt his love. The young woman looked down at her husband, then brought her face close to his and kissed his mouth softly.

When they parted from the kiss, Tavington spoke. "I love you more each day, Melanie." His lips took hers again in a deep kiss. Then his mouth moved to her ears, then neck, caressing her skin with his lips.

Melanie sighed, desire fired for her husband nearly immediately. "Make love to me, William," she murmured in a lusty sigh.

"I intend to," he whispered into her ear, his breath on the shell of it sending shivers through her body.

With his wife still across his lap, he began to unlace the front of her dress. As he did, Melanie reached for the other blanket and quickly wrapped it around the two of them. And as Tavington continued loosening the laces of her bodice, she reached downward and began to undo the cravat tied neatly about his neck.

In another moment, William found his neckstock gone and laying on the blanket next to them. He smiled, then captured his wife's mouth again with his. As he kissed her deeply and slowly, his hand went to the shoulders of her dress, pushing the sleeves down her arms.

Melanie's hands moved to William's vest and began to unbutton it. His own fingers soon took over the task. As they did, his wife slipped her arms out of her dress, letting the bodice fall lifelessly around her waist.

Mrs. Tavington smiled at her husband as she began to push his vest off. He soon finished the task of taking it off, laying it to the side of the blanket. As quickly as he did, he found Melanie's fingers undoing the small buttons at the top of his light linen shirt. As she did this, his lips found the base of her neck, which he kissed slowly as his hands began to softly caress her bare breasts.

"Oh…mmmm," she sighed, feeling his rough hands massaging her. She reached down and lifted his chin with her hand, wanting to kiss him again. As she did, she felt his hardness straining against the material of his breeches as she sat contentedly straddled upon his lap.

As they kissed slowly and sensuously, Melanie felt his fingers begin to roll and squeeze her nipples, which soon hardened into stiff little erections. The young woman began to kiss and nibble on her husband's ears as his hands continued warming her breasts.

Her mouth moved downwards to his neck, driving him insane with her slow, wet kisses that she dragged along his skin. Once again, her mouth found his, lingering there in another kiss.

When their mouths parted, his lips trailed more kissed down her neck and chest. The girl moaned aloud when she soon felt William's mouth capture the nipple on her left breast. His hand did not leave her right one, continuing to massage the nipple sensually. Melanie's head dropped back as she closed her eyes in passion, her blonde hair cascading down her bare back.

Soon Melanie felt William rock his body forward, putting her on her back on the blanket, keeping his body between her legs. They kissed again, both using a free arm to readjust the other coverlet over them. He soon covered her body again with his, his mouth moving again to taste and suckle at her taut nipples.

After another moment, Tavington sat up and back, pulling his shirt off over his head and tossing it aside as Melanie watched with desire. He reached forward and pushed the skirt up her legs to the top of her thighs. His wife reached up to his breeches and began to unbutton them. Soon, both William's and Melanie's hands were pushing his trousers down his hips.

With his pants down just enough to free his hardness, his body once again covered hers. Melanie slipped her hand between the two of them, greedily gripping his stiffness and moving her hand up and down the length of it, inciting both of their passion.

"Oh….William," she murmured in a lust laden whisper.

"See what you do to me?" he teased, whispering against the skin of her neck.

He reached between their bodies and pulled her hand away, which he guided to above her head, laying it there. Tavington paused another moment to adjust himself between her legs and positioned himself at her entrance.

William sank into her quickly with a hard, forceful thrust, making her gasp. After a few strokes in and out of her amply wet quim, she wrapped her legs tightly about his waist.

"Oh, darling, I have missed you so," she cried out in passion, happy to feel her husband thrusting his hardness into her again after so many days.

As he continued pushing and swerving within her, his mouth kissed her ear. He whispered, "Show me how much."

~/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/~

Later that evening, the Tavingtons and the Wilkins' families sat in the large, warm front parlor in the Wilkins' mansion. They had adjourned there after a sumptuous dinner.

At one end of the vast room sat Melanie and Bridget. Their four young children were there, as well. Mrs. Tavington held the two month old Cora Wilkins, who was quiet as her bright baby eyes gazed up at the beautiful woman, not her mother, now holding her. One year old Will sat on the floor with fifteen month old Jimmy Wilkins, both playing happily with toys spread out around them. Bridget read aloud from a letter she'd received from a cousin in Ireland. Baby Mary Tavington was more concerned with pulling herself up to standing on anything and everything in the room she could find.

At the other end of the room near the fireplace sat William and Jim, talking about where they would have been posted to and how far they could have gone in rank had they stayed in His Majesty's army. They laughed as both then talked of the men they had served with and both knew, trying to surmise whether those soldiers would stay in the service and if not, what they would do after.

As James poured Tavington another drink, William looked to his side and noticed his daughter toddling his way. She soon lost her balance and flopped backwards on to her bottom.

Her father chuckled at the disgusted scowl on her little face that she'd made at her stumble. Soon, she rocked her tiny body forward and began to crawl toward her papa.

"Da-da," she babbled. "Da-Da, Da-Da, Da-Da."

"Come here, Mary," he called. "Come to papa."

Her face lit up with a smile at hearing her daddy's voice, destroying the determined look that had been upon it just a second ago. In just another moment, she was at the wingbacked chair that her father sat in, pulling herself up to a standing position. From there, she extended her arms upwards, waggling her little fingers.

"Ub…..Da-Da…ub," she whimpered. William knew that 'ub' was her effort to say 'up, pick me up,' in a baby language that only a parent could understand.

"Alright, my dear," Tavington said as he reached down and picked the girl up. He sat Mary on his lap where she immediately began to suck the thumb of her right hand and grip and re-grip the fingers of her father's hand with her own little left hand.

Wilkins changed the conversation. "I've heard a bit of news that you will, no doubt, find interesting," James announced.

"Go on," Tavington advised.

"My overseer, Mr. Cowans, made a delivery yesterday to that pub in Wakefield," he began. "The pub owner, that German man Mr. Deeter, has a son that works for Mrs. Martin. He said that Benjamin Martin just showed up announced one day back at the farm. It came out that he left Kentucky and made his way back home."

William readjusted in his seat, to where he was sitting up straight and rigid, sure that he wasn't like the next thing that Jim was going to say about the Martin situation. He wondered if he should begin making more plans for protection for his family.

Wilkins continued on. "Mrs. Martin of course, welcomed him back in, letting him stay." Jim took a drink of his wine, then went on. "Apparently, a constable showed up there one day and the Deeter boy saw him talking alone with Ben's wife. A couple of days after that, Martin was gone again."

William tightened his grip on his baby daughter's waist, pulling her closer to him in a protective gesture. He went on listening intently to his neighbor.

"Deeter says that Mrs. Martin sent him away again," Wilkins informed. "She sent him to the asylum in Charles Towne."

William looked down at his beautiful little daughter sitting on his lap, kissed her head and breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank God," he said.


	82. Chapter 82 Reassurance

**Author's note: Hi all. Again let me apologize for not updating sooner. Sore throats and illness have run amuk in our household this last week. And the weeks earlier in the month were very busy for our family as well, so haven't been at the writing as much. (family is priority.) Thanks to Trace and Est for input with this chapter. **

**Thanks again, readers, for staying with this unintended epic of a story-I am glad you have the patience and time to read something this long! After this chapter (#82) there will be two more chapters and an epilogue. See-I told you I was near the end of the story! **

**Oh, I forgot to write it in the story here, but it is May 1783 and this month in the story marks William and Melanie's 2nd wedding anniversary. **

**Again, all, THANKS for reading, emails, reviews, help, support, etc, and for staying with this story for so long.**

**JScorpio**

Chapter 82 Reassurance

_May 1783…_

"OH NO! OH MY GOD!", Melanie screamed tearfully.

William heard the yelling and tried desperately to pull himself out of a heavy sleep.

"Do something for him!" his wife yelled.

Still trying to shake himself out of his restful sleep, Tavington could feel the bed shaking.

"Please hold on! We're going to get you to help!"

William finally sat up, and looked over to see his wife thrashing on the bed in her sleep. He saw from what little light in the room there was, the glints of tears on her cheeks.

He reached over to shake her awake just as she cried, "Alex! I love you! Please don't go!"

The words stopped William cold. Instead of waking her, in his own confusion, he let her continue to dream and thrash away.

He became lost in his own thoughts. _I thought she loved me? I thought she loved the children? She still has feelings for a dead man?_

Over the last few months of his marriage, Tavington had consigned himself to the fact that Melanie now loved him. That with her words to affirm it and her affection and action to him and the twins, that she belonged to only him. Jealousy consumed the man as he realized that his late adjutant still held her firm in his clutches.

_Even after death, I have failed to pry her from his cold, dead hands, he thought._

Tavington decided not to wake his wife, leaving her to the torture of the horrible nightmare as her punishment for emotional infidelity, in his eyes. He got out of bed and stood there looking at her. The man refused to wake her or comfort her.

_She can comfort herself, he thought angrily. _

He stood by the bed another moment, stewing in jealousy. The man felt that she deserved to relive her pain.

In an instant, Melanie woke herself up with a gasp. The girl sat bolt upright, trying to catch her breath, obviously frightened. She broke down in tears, covering her face with her hands, hating that she'd had such a horrid nightmare.

After a moment, her tears subsided as she caught her breath and calmed down. She soon realized that she was in the safety of her bedchamber. She slid her hand across the bed to where her husband slept. The spot was still warm, but vacant, making her panic.

"Will?" she cried softly.

"I'm right here, Melanie," he answered coldly. "You were having a nightmare."

Mrs. Tavington wondered why he hadn't roused her as he usually did when she had a bad dream. She was even more confused that he made no attempt to comfort her. The young woman wiped the tears from her face, still calming herself down a bit.

"Deep breaths, darling," was all William said as he looked down judgmentally at his wife.

He wasn't sure why, but he felt the need to test her a bit. "What did you dream about, my dear?"

Mrs. Tavington stayed quiet for a moment, not wanting to admit that she had dreamt of Alexander Bordon. But she knew that she had to answer.

"I can't remember," she lied in a quiet, guilty voice. "I just know that I was frightened, and sad."

"Very well, then," he replied curtly. "Go back to sleep. You will do the twins and myself no good tomorrow if you're exhausted."

Melanie stretched her body across the bed, reaching for William. He slyly pulled himself away, taking a step just beyond her reach.

A puzzled Mrs. Tavington sat back in her place on their bed. "William, she said lovingly, "get back in bed."

"In a moment, darling," he replied as slick as a snake. "I need to relieve myself."

Melanie smiled and lay back down. With that, Will went behind the privacy screen, making sure to take his time pissing into the chamber pot. When he finished, he padded softly over to the chair by the fireplace and sank down in it.

He stared into the fireplace at the glowing coals, trying to get his chaotic thoughts under control. His conscience, heart, and emotions were suddenly at war with each other.

_How can she still love him? He's gone. Bordon can give her nothing now. But he did give her love once. Why does she still love him? I should be enough for her!_

_How can a dead man be a threat to me? The worst he can do is find his way into an occasional dream or thought she would have._

_Does she think of him when we make love? Do I please her more than he did? No! I won't have her thinking of him._

Melanie, her eyes still closed and almost asleep, rolled over, hoping to move into William's arms. She ran her hand across the bed and found it still empty and cold now. Mrs. Tavington opened her eyes and sat up. She saw William, silhouetted in the chair against the firelight.

"William," she called softly, "come back to bed, darling."

"No. I can't sleep," he sighed. "I'm going to stay up for awhile."

"Very well," Melanie breathed. She stayed quiet for a moment, cocking her head to the side as she studied her husband. The young wife knew that something wasn't right. She needed to know.

Still sitting up in bed, she leaned forward in concern, bracing herself on her hands as she spoke. "Will, what's the matter?"

"Nothing, darling. Go back to sleep." His words were measured, short, and without emotion.

That was it—if he couldn't sleep for something bothering him, then she could not slumber, either. Mrs. Tavington slid her body out of bed and walked across the floor, soon finding herself at the fireplace near her husband.

"Might I join you?" She gestured to the empty chair near her husband's.

"As you wish," he said in a resigned voice.

His wife folded her hands in her lap as she looked down at the floor. Melanie heaved a heavy sigh, then spoke. "I'm sorry, William," she began. "I lied to you. I do remember what I dreamed about."

"Yes, I know you must," he said, trying to keep a jealous tone from creeping into his speech. "You called his name several times."

"Yes," Melanie admitted sadly, looking down. "He died in my arms again a few moments ago, as he has done so many times before. Strange…I have no other dreams of him save for that one."

"Do you want other dreams of him?" asked William, his hurt showing through.

Melanie was torn between her love for her husband and her dead lover. She knew she had to tell the truth here, but yet had to tread lightly lest she alienate William.

His wife was quiet for a moment, which only served to heighten his jealousy. Yet he needed to know what was in her heart.

"It's not that I want to keep having dreams about Alex," she answered quietly, her words cautious, "I just don't want to see him dying again. I don't want to remember that day."

"But it happened and you will never forget it," Will pointed out.

"Yes, but I don't want to keep re-living it, even if it is only upon occasion," she replied forlornly.

"You don't think about him that much?" asked William. He was confused to hear her admit that she only thought of him occasionally.

"No, not like I used to after he died," she answered honestly. "I don't think of him every day, or even often anymore. It's just that once in awhile something will just remind me of him, and then I have the nightmare."

William was silent, listening to his wife. Melanie became worried when he didn't answer right away, and felt she must defend herself.

"These days, my mind and heart are full of you and the twins," she said. "I don't—"

"Do you still love him?"

"My family is gone, but I still love them," she defended. "I didn't lose my heart for them because they are dead."

"That wasn't what I asked you," said William directly. "Do you still love _him_?"

"I do," she said quietly, closing her eyes to blink back tears. "But, not as I love _you_."

She paused then went on. "My love for you is so much more than it was for him," she explained. "We've experienced more together. My feelings for you are different and deeper."

Melanie went on. "You are my husband, and the father of my children."

"Do you think of him when we make love?" William asked innocently.

"Will, I can hardly breathe let alone think when you make love to me," she said in a wondrous voice. "All I can feel or think of is the tension and pleasure you bring me!"

Melanie brushed a loving, light kiss across her husband's lips, and was relieved to see him smile back at her. She turned serious again, and continued on speaking about her feelings.

"I love Alex and may always, but I had to let him go," she admitted sadly. "He's gone. I'm alive and here with you and the twins. You, Mary, and Will are my life and my love. The three of you are mine. He never belonged to me."

"I don't want to think of him," she continued on as her husband listened intently. "I have tried to stop my love for him."

"Melanie, I don't want you to try to forget him, or stop your feelings for him," William said, his voice reasonable and full of understanding. "Because if you can do that, then you would just as easily forget about me and could stop loving me. I don't want that."

"Darling, please just know that I couldn't be a good mother and wife if I didn't let go of someone from the past," Melanie went on. "If I still loved a ghost, then I couldn't love you and the twins as much as I do. The three of you are my life."

Tavington kissed his wife, relieved and understanding her feelings more now. He also knew that he never had to be jealous or feel threatened again. What harm could a ghost do to them? William realized that he could share a small part of Melanie's heart with the memory of Alexander Bordon, secure in knowing that he and the twins had the better part of her love and soul.

Melanie sat comfortably back in the chair next to her husband and clasped his hand. "I have a surprise for you," she announced excitedly.

"You do?"

"Yes. I was going to wait to give it to you when you returned from your business trip," she said. "But I think I should give it to you now."

"Very well," said William, smiling at her.

"Close your eyes," she instructed, "and give me your hands."

William chuckled at her playfulness, his eyes closed and hands out. Melanie got up from her chair quietly and stood before her husband. She took his hands and placed his fingertips on her lower abdomen.

Tavington opened his eyes, staring at his hands touching her belly. He looked up to see his wife grinning down at him.

"You're with child," he said cautiously.

"Yes!"

He rose from his chair and took her in his arms. As he kissed her, his right hand dropped between them to touch her middle again, caressing it for a moment.

"How far along?" asked William.

"I've missed three monthlies," she announced.

"Three? Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Tavington queried in concern.

"I wanted to be sure," she replied.

William sat down, pulling his wife down onto his lap.

"Are you pleased?" she asked.

"Yes! Surprised as well," he informed.

"William, I want so badly to give you another son," said Mrs. Tavington, quietly.

"Melanie, I know you do," he began, "But given your history with precarious pregnancies and two lost infants, I only desire a well born child and a healthy wife."

She smiled and brushed a kiss upon his cheek. "I think this child was conceived under the oak tree that day," Melanie said.

"You may be right," William laughed, then planted a sensual kiss on his wife's neck. "I remember that day."

With that, Melanie stood up and took her husband's hand. She led him back over to their bed. Once there, she took off her shift, letting it fall to the floor. William's nightshirt was shed just as quickly. The two gazed lovingly at the other's nude body in the low firelight.

"Is my belly swollen yet?" Melanie asked playfully.

"I should probably have a closer look," Will teased. With that, he bent his tall frame over and kissed Melanie's shoulders. After a moment, he knelt before her naked body and began to kiss her breasts.

After taking a minute to suckle and tease her nipples, he began to kiss his way down to her belly. In another moment, his head dipped to her thighs, which were already slightly parted. She gasped as she felt his tongue slither from between his lips and toy with her womanhood, slowly, taking his time. He found the bud between her legs, and his tongue soon stroked it into a hard little erection.

With that, he stood back up, kissing her way back up her body as he did, leaving her with a forlorn sigh. He kissed her, then breathed teasingly in her ear, "No, your belly isn't swollen yet."

Melanie chuckled, then let her hand drop between them. She caressed his hardened manhood, and kissed his neck as she did. "Your cock is awfully swollen," she teased, then kissed his neck.

"And what are we going to do about that?" William teased back.

His wife continued to stroke his hardness, as her other hand moved to his chest to caress and toy with his nipple.

After a moment of this, Melanie dropped to her knees before her husband, and began to kiss his flat belly. Soon her lips trailed down his hips and to the front of his thighs.

The young woman took his erection into her mouth, softly playing upon it with her lips and tongue, taking her time teasing him. A minute of this torture passed before Melanie swallowed his manhood deep into her throat, taking it to the hilt.

William let out an audibly pleased groan. "My God!," he gasped lustily. "Oh, Melanie, I promise to hurry home from my trip!"

~/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/~

It was late in the afternoon as Melanie and the twins sat on the veranda on the warm May day. William had been gone to Charles Towne on business for almost a week.

Mrs. Tavington remembered his last business trip to Savannah in March. He had taken the family with him. She recalled the family riding together in their coach. Other times she looked out the window of the carriage to see William on his horse with one of the twins riding in front of him and laughing. The decision had been made for the family to stay at home on this trip as the general wanted to attend to business as quickly as possible and get back home to help in the planting.

Melanie smiled at the twins, who sat near her on the porch. They loved playing with their wooden Noah's Ark, and enjoyed it more because Mama played with them today. The wooden painted animals were small enough to be picked up with their tiny hands, yet too large to swallow. They could also be easily arranged inside the ark, which opened on hinges.

Mrs. Tavington turned her head, thinking she heard something. She rose from her spot and took a couple of steps toward the railing. She tilted her head and shaded her eyes from the low late afternoon sun. Finally a carriage came into view on the long lane. The young woman recognized it as theirs.

A smile crossed her face, surprised to see William back from business already. He was back from Charles Towne a day earlier than he had predicted.

"Papa's home," she said to the twins. They immediately dropped their toy animals and struggled up on their toddler legs up to their feet. They began to dance excitedly at their mother's side.

"Da-da!"

"Papa!"

Both toddled to the edge of the porch where Melanie's cautious hands held them back.

"Mama! Mama!" Mary squealed with her arms up. Melanie reached down and lifted the girl up to hold her. She steadied her daughter on her hip as she started down the stairway. Little Will, however, preferred to scoot down step by step on his bottom. Neither child was adept at navigating steps up and down yet.

At the bottom of the veranda steps, she put Mary down and Will soon joined them. Mrs. Tavington grabbed both their little hands firmly, not wanting them to run into the path of the coach.

As the vehicle came to a stop in front of the house, General Tavington exited the carriage smiling at his family waiting for him. He dropped to one knee and opened his arms wide to greet the twins.

"Da-da!" the twins squealed in delight as they toddled to him. William wrapped his arms around both of them, kissing their heads.

"Papa missed you both so much!" he greeted, loving feeling their little bodies safely in his arms.

Melanie stood quietly, watching her husband with the children. Her heart always melted to this, loving watching him with Will and Mary.

He let go of his fifteen month old toddlers and stood up. Melanie walked into his awaiting arms, happy that he was home.

"My darling," he said as he looked down at her, his fingers stoking her cheek softly.

"I missed you so much, William," she said, her eyes meeting his deep blue ones.

William leaned down and took his wife's mouth in a sound kiss. However, their slow kiss was interrupted by Mary.

"Up! Da-da, up!" she spoke impatiently at her father's leg. She stood in place reaching up for him.

Tavington reluctantly broke the kiss and turned his attentions downward. "Come here, Mary," he said, folding his tall frame down to pick up his little girl. At the same time, his son was screeching at him from the bottom of the steps, trying to get his attention.

"Go ahead, Will," Tavington said knowing that little Will wanted to show off how he climbed the steps on his hands and feet. After Will had crawled up a couple of steps, William spoke. "Very good, son!"

He then turned to Mary, who he still held. "And how's papa's princess?"

The babe smiled shyly, then laid her head on her father's strong shoulder. Tavington slipped his arm around his wife as they ascended the stairway together, baby Mary in his arms. He leaned down and stole a quick kiss from his wife as they stepped.

"How have you been feeling?" he asked, concerned about her pregnant state.

"I've had a little more nausea this week,"

At the top of the steps, he dropped his arm from around her waist and touched her abdomen gently with his finger tips. "And how is this one doing?"

"He's fine," Melanie answered with a loving smile.

"Moving?" he asked, knitting his eyebrows.

"I'm sure he is but it will be three or four more weeks before I can feel it."

William looked back to look at the coach, the servants busily unloading the General's bags. He turned back to his wife. "I have presents for you and the children."

With that, they moved into the house. After entering the house, a sour expression crossed the general's face.

"Uh…Diedre."

"Yes, sir," she curtsied to him. "Welcome home."

"Thank you. Could you please take her," he said handing little Mary to her, "I think her britches are full."

"Yes, sir," she replied, whisking the child away for a diaper change.

Mrs. Sloane walked into the room, having heard the carriage drive up. "Welcome home, General," she greeted. "Are you hungry or thirsty?"

"No, Ma'am," he answered. "We stopped at a pub a few hours ago."

"Very good, sir."

"Mrs. Sloane," he called after her, stopping her just before leaving the room, "When dinner is served, I'll take mine in my office, please. I have a lot of work to do."

"Oh William, must you?" Melanie said, immediately distressed. "Must you work through dinner?"

"Yes. I have to get some papers to a new customer in Camden tomorrow," he replied.

Melanie turned away, looking out the door. She tried to stifle her disappointment because she knew that William worked so hard to further the plantation and mills.

Will sighed, knowing that Melanie had wanted him to spend time with them when they returned. He moved up behind his wife and slipped his arms around her, resting his head on her shoulder. His hands dropped to her belly and began to rub it. "I promise I'll make it up to you tomorrow evening," he whispered. "We'll all have dinner together."

"Alright, darling," she said as he kissed her cheek.

Moments later, Will stood in the living room watching the children playing with their new gifts their papa had brought them. Little Will seemed fascinated with his new toy sword as Mary played quietly on the floor with her new doll.

Tavington gave two brown paper wrapped packages to his wife. "One for you," he said, placing them on her lap.

"But there are two here," she said with a puzzled smile.

"Well, actually one is for you and the other is for the baby inside," he said, grinning as he knelt down next to her chair. "You can open the one for the baby now. The other one…uh….you should wait until one evening in the privacy of our bedroom."

"Oh," Melanie said raising her eyebrows. She was pleased, knowing that he had probably bought her some new, frilly night gown, one a bit risqué, that would make her feel naughty to wear it, and he equally as naughty to see her in it.

She opened the small package for the child within her womb. It was a stuffed Gingerbread man, with a rattle sewn within its head. She shook it near her belly and smiled.

"I'm sure the baby will love it," she said with a smile. William brushed a kiss across her lips, then stood. Melanie's eyes followed her husband as he made his way across the floor to his office. In less than a moment, he exited it with a puzzled look on his face. She continued to watch him as he wove his way around the large gallery.

Mrs. Tavington got up and met William near the hallway. "What's the matter?"

"I've misplaced my blue satchel," he said, looking frustrated. "I need it for tonight. It has my work in it."

"I'll help you look for it," she said. "I'm sure it's around here somewhere."

"I'll check the carriage," he said with a sigh, quickly moving down the hall, leaving the house by the side door near the kitchen. Maybe he left it there.

Mrs. Tavington looked about her husband's office, unable to find the case. She walked down the hall and peered into the parlor, where she had already checked, hoping maybe she had missed it. Not finding it, she walked out onto the veranda. In an instant, the blue case caught her eye.

Melanie walked down the steps and quickly picked up the satchel. She laughed to herself as she strolled across the lane toward the carriage house.

Once there she saw the coach door standing open. Walking up next to it, she looked inside to find William on his hands and knees looking beneath the seats. She reached up to the handle and pulled herself up onto the step of the coach.

Melanie poked her head inside. "Uh….William…..is this it?" She held it up as she got into the vehicle, slamming the door behind her.

"Yes," Tavington answered with a relieved sigh as he sank into one of the seats. "Where was it?"

"Next to the bottom of the veranda steps."

"Thank you," he replied as she took a seat next to him in the coach.

Melanie hooked her arm through Will's as the two relaxed for a moment. She laid her head on her husband's shoulder and spoke whimsically. "Do you really have to work tonight? I can't talk you out of it? You already work so hard for us."

"And I'll be working tonight long after you and the twins have gone to sleep," he said. "But I will make it up to you tomorrow."

"Well, since you insist on working tonight," she began, "might I have a few minutes of your time right now?"

"Of course, darling," answered William.

Slowly, Melanie pulled up her skirt, lifted her leg and seated herself astride her husband facing him. William watched, his eyes registering surprised.

She began to unlace the bodice of her dress as she sat on his lap. The young woman leaned forward and whispered in his ear. "It will only take a few minutes to welcome you home properly."

With that, she began to kiss his ear and neck. William smiled and sighed at her actions. "Very well, then."

"I've missed you so much this past week," she murmured moving her head to kiss the other side of his neck, while still unlacing her dress.

"I longed to feel your body next to mine in bed," she breathed lustily into his ear.

She could feel Tavington's arousal growing against her thigh as she ground herself seductively against his lap. Melanie caressed William's face with her hand, her thumb gliding over his lips. Then she took his mouth in a slow, passionate kiss.

William's hands traveled to her bodice to help her remove her dress faster, but se playfully pushed them away. "No," she whispered. "Let me do all the work."

"As you wish," he sighed as he felt her breath on his ear again, arousing him even further.

"I missed your arms around me," she murmured.

"I missed holding you in my arms," he whispered back.

Melanie sat up on his lap and looked seductively down at her husband. She slowly pushed her sleeves down her arms and released them from the confines of her dress, baring her torso. The girl took her husband's hands and placed them on her breasts.

She leaned back a little bit and closed her eyes as she felt her husband's hands caress them. A sigh escaped her lips, closing her eyes and letting her head drop back a bit as his thumbs and fingers rolled her pink nipples into tight little peaks.

Mrs. Tavington leaned forward again, kissing her husband. "Oh…William….I'm so glad you're home," she said breathlessly. Then his wife reached down and undid her husband's pants, kissing his neck again as she did. After a moment, she felt William lift himself just off the seat as she pushed his breeches down enough to free his awaiting erection.

Melanie's hand glided lightly over it, as she murmured into his ear again. "I want your cock inside me." With that, she sank down on his hardness with a sigh of satisfaction.

She paused for a moment, letting his member fill her up and relishing how good it felt to have him inside her. As she did, William leaned forward, dipping his head to take one of her hardened nipples into his mouth. His lips tugged hard at it, spurring his wife on to begin moving upon his lap.

Melanie reached forward and put her hands on the seat just on either side of her husband's shoulders. She moved herself slowly in very controlled motions upon his hardness, nearly torturing both of them.

Mrs. Tavington dipped her head where her lips met her husband's. As they lingered in a heart stopping kiss, Melanie began to grind herself a bit faster up and down William's stiffness.

"Oh….God….Melanie," William stammered breathlessly as his wife moved sensuously on his lap. His mouth soon found her other nipple and suckled furiously at it.

"Oh..William!" she cried as he did this, throwing her head back in the pleasure of feeling his lips on her breasts.

As she moved astride him, his head sank back onto the seat top. He closed his eyes in ecstasy, enjoying feeling her ride him across his lap.

"I don't think I can hold back much longer, darling," he said huskily.

Melanie smiled at the fact that she was driving him nearly insane. She moved herself upon him, repositioning herself slightly, finding a bit more friction. Within another moment, she felt a delicious heat building in her pelvis.

"Oh….OH….I'm coming! Oh WILLIAM!" Then she felt herself explode, her head dizzying as she rode him in her pleasure.

Just an instant later, Tavington came, rapturous pleasure coursing through his veins. "God! Melanie! OH Darling!" he cried out in his satisfaction.

His wife stayed tucked on his lap as the two rested in each other's arms, wordlessly trying to catch their breaths. Holding each other tight still, Melanie whispered, "Welcome home, William."

He looked into her eyes, then kissed her softly. Still holding her close, he answered "Thank you."

Mrs. Tavington crawled off her husband's lap to the seat beside him as he hitched his trousers back up. She leaned back into the seat, her hands quickly lacing her dress back up. As she was nearly done, she felt her husband's hand on her abdomen over where their baby was nestled away safely.

She smiled at his hand caressing her belly, then continued to finish lacing her bodice up. When she was done, he pulled her into his embrace and kissed her deeply, taking her breath away.

"I want this child, Melanie," he murmured, his tone sincere yet hesitant.

Though he would never admit it aloud to her, she could tell that he had some trepidation about this pregnancy because of a miscarriage and a stillbirth. And although he had shown strength and bravery in mourning the loss of their premature baby Worthe months ago, she knew that it had hit him hard; that he was hiding his own feelings to help hold her up.

Melanie felt happy and lucky to know this side of William, a side that not many others would see. A part of him that he didn't show to other people. But she understood why he couldn't and accepted him for it. She had seen this side of him and it only served to make her love him even more deeply.

"I can't wait to have him," she whispered back. "I know that everything will be fine."

The pair exited the carriage house hand in hand, making the most of their stroll back up to the house. Once inside, they found the children still playing with their new toys. William lifted each child, giving them both a kiss, then he kissed his wife, needing to get into his office and begin work.

~/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/~

Once in his office, it was only a matter of moments into his work when there was a knock at the door. He looked up to see his trusted farm manager, Mr. Andrews and the overseer, Mr. Barnes. They had serious looks on their faces.

"Can it wait until tomorrow late?" William asked earnestly. "I've got to have a lot of paperwork to get done and ready to deliver to a customer in Camden tomorrow morning."

"Normally we wouldn't disturb you," Barnes began apologetically, "But it's of a serious nature."

"It's something we know you'd want to hear about right away," Andrews advised.

"Very well," William said, putting his pencil down and resting back in his chair. "Come in and close the door."

The men thanked him and took seats in front of his desk. They looked at each other, silently trying to decide who would speak. Barnes yielded readily to Mr. Andrews, as manager of the plantation.

"Colonel Martin is back at his home, sir."

William's mouth dropped open, stunned at the news. He thought that the militia man had been locked safely away in the asylum in Charles Towne.

"Are you sure? How do you know?" Tavington asked, clearly concerned and confused.

"My younger brother drives the delivery wagon for the mercantile in Devington," Barnes informed. "I had dinner with him the other night in the pub in Cascadia."

William swallowed hard as he sat forward in his chair. He folded his hands together and laid them on his desk, trying to stay calm as he listened.

Mr. Barnes went on. "He spoke of something that happened to him lately while working. He made a delivery to the Selton Martin plantation the other day. When he was unloading the wagon, he heard a man hollering and carrying on. He noticed that the servants and slaves seemed not to pay heed to it, which he thought was strange."

Barnes took a breath, the continued on. "John, my brother, told me that they have a ballroom with a kitchen beneath it which is detached from the house; behind it not far. He heard the ranting coming from here. He bent down and checked in the windows, which were barred like a jail. He saw a man in there."

Tavington sighed, closed his eyes, and sat back in his chair. He knew who it was in that homemade dungeon, yet part of it needed to hear more just to confirm the amazing story. William recalled the building when the legion had raided the plantation years ago. Mrs. Selton's was the first home he'd seen with a detached ballroom.

Mr. Barnes shot a look at Mr. Andrews, knowing the news had managed to shock their boss. Barnes kept on with his testimony.

"One of the Martin's slaves saw my brother looking in. He explained to him that the man was Master Martin, and that he had gone insane. He told John that the mistress had recently fetched him from the asylum, unable to bear having him in that place. Said she would rather have him imprisoned at home where he could be nearby and treated well."

Tavington rolled his eyes and shook his head. The man wondered why Mrs. Martin, after threats from him and after Constable Evans visiting her after Benjamin had run away from Kentucky, would bring him back at such risk.

Mr. Barnes finished. "John said that the slave ushered him away from the area quickly and spoke softly, acting as though the whole thing is supposed to be a secret."

"Yes," Tavington interjected, "I'm sure she doesn't want anyone to find out that he is back at home when the whole countryside knows that he belongs in the asylum."

He thanked the men for letting him know, asked them to keep the security level up around the farm, and not to tell Mrs. Tavington. William would have to decide if and how he would tell her. With her pregnancy, he didn't want to upset her or place undue stress on Melanie.

William sat for a moment, ruminating over all that he'd heard. He had to get to work on the papers for his new customer, but also knew he had to make some kind of a decision about how he would handle the Martin situation. Obviously, his threats against and rape of Mrs. Martin last autumn, or the effects of, only lasted temporarily, for here the militia colonel was back at home.

_What must I do? The man can't die of the disease soon enough. How can I get him back into the asylum? As long as he is out, there's uncertainty for my family. What do I do?_

After a moment of thinking to himself, William made a decision. He assumed that after having physically threatened and attacked the man's wife, that if he did it a second time, the results would be as temporary as the first: it would scare her for only so long. Obviously he was going to have to have help from the authorities.

Tavington leaned over and opened a locked box in a drawer at the bottom of the desk. He looked over Martin's tomahawk and note with the Martin family seal on it, left carelessly by Martin on Will's plantation last October. He slipped them into his satchel and decided that while he was in Camden on business in the morning, that he would also pay a visit to the region's magistrate.

~/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/~

"What do you mean you can't help?" William asked, incensed at the magistrate's less than eagerness to get involved with the Colonel Martin situation. "His threats and insanity are right there in front of you," he said, his hand passing over Martin's tomahawk and the letter bearing Martin's wax seal on it.

Tavington was in Camden this morning. After having met with his client to present business papers to him, he went straight to the Magistrate to pay a visit. William had been glad to hear in passing from another customer at the inn this morning while waiting on his client, that the particular Magistrate had been a loyalist during the war. He hoped this might help further his cause.

"General, my hands are tied," the official apologized. "I can't do anything until he hurts someone. The threats here aren't enough to have him ordered back to the asylum."

A frustrated William reached over the desk collecting the tomahawk and note and placing them back in his satchel. Before William could stand, the magistrate spoke again.

"I assure you, General Tavington, that I am keeping a close watch on the situation with Colonel Martin."

William stood to leave, heaving a frustrated sigh. "Thank you," he said less than enthusiastically.

"Though I was a loyalist and respected the job that you and your soldiers had to do," the official said, stopping Tavington from going through the door, "you must admit, General, that the actions of you and your men during the war, have brought the disdain and unwillingness of the people around here to help upon you."

"I discharged my duty faithfully and in whole for King and Country," William objected. "Unpleasantness is an unavoidable part of war."

The magistrate said nothing to his reply. He stood to come around the desk and see Tavington to the door, but William's words stopped the man in his tracks.

"I can see that I am on my own, here," the general uttered aloud. "Very well, then. I can protect my family. Most people around here still fear me. Why ruin that reputation?"

"You are not going to take the law into your own hands, are you?" asked a now suspicious magistrate, touching Tavington's arm to stop him.

"If need be," William said. "I suppose it depends upon any help I might receive."

"You know, General, you just said it yourself," the official pointed out. "You're the Carolina Butcher. Why would you want our help or even have a desire to stay within the law? Rules never stopped you from doing…..your duty."

"I'm no longer a soldier," Tavington answered bluntly. "I'm a businessman now. And as such, I'd like to stay within the law. It makes for better business."

"I understand."

William turned back to the magistrate, wanting to leave the man with something else to think about; something that would hopefully goad or guilt the man into helping at best effort.

"Your honor," William began in a humble tone, "I have two young children. My wife is with child to be born in December. They are innocent of my actions. I hope you will consider that."

"Of course, General," the magistrate affirmed. "You wife especially comes from a well loved family. That will never be forgotten."

The men shook hands and William thanked him for the impromptu meeting. The magistrate spoke again.

"You have my word that I will be visiting the Martin plantation," he assured. "And I will warn Mrs. Martin that her husband can be remanded back to the asylum."

"Thank you," said William as he left the office.


	83. Chapter 83 A Reckoning

Chapter 83 A Reckoning

_August 1783….._

Melanie Tavington stood on the veranda of her home, shaded from the midday sun. And although she was cool in the refuge from the summer heat, she still simmered. She bit down hard on her tongue and tried not to appear hostile as she crossed her arms. She watched as the servants loaded the goat cart on the lane with picnic items and her children, something she would have ordinarily helped with.

Her hand dropped to her middle, absently rubbing her hand over her rounded belly, now well into the sixth month of her pregnancy. For the last three months, ever since she had informed William, she had barely been let to do anything, save for occasionally lifting the twins when they cried. Melanie was sure that her husband had conspired with the plantation's servants to keep her as idle as possible, not letting her exert her person at all during this time. The young wife missed her long walks and vigorous horseback rides around the plantation. She longed to help out in the orchards and fields as she did when she was young but found herself conspiratorially and suspiciously "confined" to an easy life in the coolness of the mansion.

Mrs. Tavington heaved an audible sigh. Not today—they weren't going to stop her today. She had promised William that she and the children would bring a picnic lunch down to him today and nothing was going to detour this. Besides, she thought that her husband already worked hard enough for the family business as it was and some days he was so busy that it wasn't much that they got to spend time with the man. A meal with him was the perfect excuse to spend time and give him a bit of a break.

"Oomph," she exclaimed with a gasp as a hard kick from the baby within her drew her from her musings. It was by another randy kick, leaving Melanie with a funny, yet wondrous look on her face for all to see.

"Something wrong, Mrs. Tavington?" asked Mrs. Sloane.

Melanie shook her head with a light chuckle. "The baby is kicking hard."

"And you want to take a long walk out to the mill in this blazing sun?" the head of the servants asked in a scolding and clearly disapproving tone.

"Nonsense," the plantation mistress retorted. "I appreciate the concern, Mrs. Sloane, but I'll be fine. The walk will do me well. I promised the General that we'd bring a picnic to him today."

"I can easily have a meal sent down to the master," Mrs. Sloane reminded.

"Yes, I know," answered Melanie, "But if you do, he'll just work through it. He works hard enough as it is. This is a good way to get him to stop for a bit and spend time with us."

"But Ma'am," Sloane protested, "The heat today, and you're condition."

"We'll be in the shade," Mrs. Tavington tried to allay the servant's fears. "I'll be fine, really."

Within minutes, they were ready to go. Melanie took the long reins of the goat and clicked her tongue for the beast to walk forward. As they strolled along, the children babbled on until their mother recognized some of their words.

"Lamb, Mommy?"

"Lammie?"

A new lamb had been born recently and the children loved holding and playing with it. The baby sheep was penned in the barn with its mother, the building not on the path they were currently walking. Melanie knew, though, what the twins wanted.

"Yes darlings," she answered, "We can visit the lamb later. Mama will take you after we have lunch with papa."

As they walked along toward the mill, Mrs. Tavington's thoughts carried her away momentarily. She recalled this morning and how sick she was. It awoke her at five, and she ran to the chamber pot to puke. The commotion had awoken William, and concerned, he stayed awake until she was done. He didn't have to be up until seven. Once back in bed, he'd wrapped her back in his arms, holding her close. His hand caressed her belly, feeling how active the baby was this morning. She closed her eyes and smiled as she remembered the sweetness and safety of being in his arms.

Then she recollected the evening before, when they'd gone to bed. Her smile turned to a blush. The couple had gone to bed exhausted, only to arise refreshed a couple of hours later, and ready to make love. She grinned as she remembered William taking her from behind with her on her hands and knees. Their lovemaking had soon become so amorous and rowdy that she had to hold onto the foot board of the bed lest he send her off the other side of it with his thrusting. She chuckled to herself, blushing furiously again as she recalled how they came together, collapsing on one another onto the bed.

The twins calling her brought her from her reverie. "Mommy. Go!"

Melanie smiled as she looked at Mary, pointing at the goat. "Yes angel. That's a goat."

She and William marveled everyday at the children's growing vocabulary and recognition of everyday objects and the ability to name them.

"Mama. Backet!" Will said, pointing at the whicker hamper full of food in the cart.

"Yes, darling," she assured. "That's a basket."

Mrs. Tavington looked ahead and saw that they were nearing the glade by the mill in which the family could have a semi-secluded picnic. She led the goat along a few more yards until they entered the clearing.

"We're here, children," Melanie announced. She quickly picked out a tree that was near the forest line that would afford them a good amount of shade. The woman spied another tree nearby and led the goat and cart to it, tying the beast to it. She spread a blanket out on the ground, then lifted each child out of the cart and placed them on the coverlet. Then she retrieved the twins' Noah's Ark toy from the cart, opening it and dumping the animals onto the blanket. Instantly, Mary and Will began to play with it.

As the children played, Melanie looked about the clearing and noticed the old turkey pen, ramshackle and near falling down, over to the side of the glade. She recollected how the last hurricane years ago blew over the old henhouse next to the thing, but the pen stayed standing. She had wanted to tear the thing down, but the male servants of the estate talked about how they still used the old thing sometimes to pen turkeys and other fowl. As she surveyed the old pen again, she made a mental note to speak to William again about having it torn down.

"Stay here, children, and play nice," she instructed the twins, who played away with their ark. "I'm going to get tell papa we're here."

With that, she walked along, past the copse of trees that obscured the glade from total view of the mill. She absently carried another blanket still in her arms, having forgot to put it down near the other one that the children now played on. Once inside the mill, she tapped her husband on the shoulder, knowing her wouldn't hear her above the din of the machinery. The man busily poured a bag of corn into the mill.

"We brought lunch," she said, smiling demurely up at him.

"I'm in the middle of a task," he replied, "I'll join you in a few moments."

Melanie smiled and nodded, then started toward the door. But before she could walk through it, a strong hand pulled her backwards. She soon found herself in William's embrace, his lips on hers. As he gave her a deep kiss, his hand dropped below her waist and kneaded her round bottom.

She pulled away from him reluctantly. "Will," she protested half heartedly, "the children."

"They should see how much I love their mother," he said, his mouth trailing kisses on her neck.

"Yes, William," she agreed, pushing away from him. "But I need to get back to them. They're playing out there."

Tavington gave her a playful smack on her ass as he watched her exit. "I'll be there in a few minutes," he called after her.

Melanie trotted out of the mill and back toward the clearing where she'd set up the picnic and left the twins. Nearing the copse of trees, she smiled as she heard the goat bleating and the children's laughter. As she rounded the corner and the glade came into view, she suddenly stopped in her tracks, frozen and unable to move. The blanket she held in her arms fell to the ground as she unconsciously let it drop. She immediately began to tremble at the sight before her, tears wetting her eyes.

Benjamin Martin, the former militia colonel now in the throes of insanity caused by Syphilis, stood next to the old poultry pen. He had the twins lock up in the old thing, where they played happily with the lamb they loved. They didn't seem the least bit afraid of the man guarding the pen. Melanie's frantic mind could only surmise that he must have used the baby sheep to lure Mary and Will into the cage. Mrs. Tavington could only mutely wonder how long he'd been on the property and that he must have been watching them.

Her mind spun wildly out of control at the thought of just how quickly Martin had lured the twins into his trap, for she was gone but less than two minutes. She wanted to break down into tears, feeling this her fault. After all, _she'd_ left them alone; they were out of _her_ sight.

"Ah, Mrs. Tavington," Martin greeted in a taunting tone, "You really shouldn't leave your children alone."

Melanie, still too terrified to move, raised her hand slightly. "No…don't," she stammered, her voice breaking, "Please don't—"

"Don't hurt your children?" the colonel answered, finishing her sentence for her. "Why don't you come over here and join the picnic."

Mrs. Tavington hesitated a moment. The girl wasn't sure what to do, afraid that anything she did would jeopardize her children. Her head swayed and she suddenly felt faint. But she willed herself to stay upright, afraid to pass out with Martin so close to her children. Her hand dropped to her belly, rubbing it, as if protecting the child living within it. She took a deep breath in an attempt to stave off the vertigo.

"Come here, Mrs. Tavington," Martin growled in an insistent and intimidating voice. Then he trained his pistol on the children and cocked it. This drew the woman immediately from her stupor.

She finally broke down and began to cry. The girl hurried toward the pen, her hand out to Benjamin Martin. "No! Please! Don't!" she begged. As she neared the pen, the twins looked up at her and she was suddenly aware that they weren't afraid, not understanding what was going on. She wanted them to stay calm, at least in an effort to keep Colonel Martin at ease, lest he shoot immediately any fussy children.

Melanie Tavington forced a smile as she looked down at her beloved twins. "Mama," they chirped happily, grinning up at their mama. "Lammie!"

"Yes darlings!", their mother replied, trying to steady her own voice. "Will, Mary, mommy's here. You're fine."

In one fluid move not even noticed by the twins, Martin reached for Melanie, taking her elbow securely in his hand. He led her down the side of the ramshackle pen, about ten feet away from where the twins played. She didn't fight him, and her gaze stayed on the children even as he pulled her away from them. The young woman was not about to risk herself, the unborn child within, or the twins by resisting the militia colonel's demands.

At the other end of the old pen, the former militia man lashed her wrists together in front of her, then tied her bound hands to the wires of the pen, carefully fishing it through the openings and anchoring securely so that the woman couldn't run. He then took his knife and placed the blade just under Mrs. Tavington's chin against the skin, teasing her again.

"Looks like the butcher is going to have another child," he drawled. Melanie shivered, then held her breath as he put a bit more pressure on the weapon. The poor woman let her breath out when Martin took the blade away from her throat.

After another tense moment, Melanie looked up to see her husband rounding the corner of the small grove of trees. She shot him a horrified look that silently pleaded for help. But tears of guilt ran down her cheeks, conveying that she was sorry—she felt that this was her fault for leaving the children.

When Benjamin saw General Tavington, he roughly grabbed Melanie's hair and pulled her head backwards. He brought the knife back up to the girl's throat, never taking his eyes off the Carolina Butcher.

William stopped in his tracks, taken aback at the unexpected sight of Benjamin Martin holding his family. The brave Tavington, who had been afraid of little in his life, was now deathly frightened inside that the insane militia man would harm his family. Yet his blood boiled that the man dared to do this.

The former redcoat officer cursed himself, realizing he'd left his coat and pistol in the mill's office. All he had was a small knife concealed in his boot.

Martin, still holding Melanie in a precarious position, looked pleased that he had the entire Tavington family at bay now.

"Tavington! I finally have you and your whole family together!"

"What do you want, Martin?"

"You and your family dead!" Martin declared.

"Your quarrel is with me," Tavington growled.

"Yes," answered Ben, "But your family must be used to get to you."

"I'll trade myself for them," William offered, "I'm unarmed. You would have the advantage over me. Let them go."

"No!" Benjamin Martin spat. "You're going to see them die first before you go."

"No," Melanie sobbed.

"Don't you hurt my family!" Tavington screamed, not caring if his rage showed now.

"I'm going to kill your children first," Martin announced as he took the blade from Mrs. Tavington's throat, yet still held a fistful of her hair. He brought the dagger down to Melanie's rounded belly and dragged the blade across it, dangerously close to cutting through her clothes.

"Then I'm going to cut the child from your wife's womb and kill it," snarled Martin ominously. "If Mrs. Tavington lives through that, then I'll finish her off. You're last! You get to watch them all die."

William had seen enough. He risked making a move now. He had to get to his family. The general took a cautious yet insistent step toward them.

"Stop there," Ben warned, "Don't take another step."

"I'm not going to stand here and let you hurt my family!" William shot back.

After another tense moment of trading intent stares with Martin, Tavington suddenly lunged forward. At that, Martin grabbed Melanie's elbow and jerked her back hard. Then his hand covered her mouth as his other hand drove the knife hard into her thigh.

Melanie screamed behind his hand, her eyes and face betraying the horrible pain she felt though the sound was muffled. The young woman saw stars and immediately felt her legs give out, as if she would faint. Martin held her limp body up for a moment, then stepped back from the girl.

Mrs. Tavington whimpered through gritted teeth, her knuckles turning white as her fingers held tightly to the fence. She willed herself to stay conscious.

Seeing his wife get stabbed had stopped Tavington dead in his tracks again, not wanting to cause any of his family members any more pain. He shot Melanie a sincere look of sorrow, regretting that he'd been the cause of Martin hurting her. Though she had pain on her face, she returned the look with a gaze of longing and love for him, thinking it may be her last.

William was desperate now, unsure of what to do. He had taken the chance of trying to run at Martin and the man had hurt his wife. Again he wished for his weapons, sure enough of his shot that he could kill or maim the militia colonel enough to be able to get to his family.

Tavington's eyes darted to his children, playing happily away in the locked pen with the lamb, oblivious to the danger they were in. This his eyes locked again with his wife's tear filled eyes, giving him the most desperate look he had ever seen.

Then, out of the side of the general's eye, he thought he saw a flash of white in the tree line across the lane. He knew that Martin was watching his every move from muscle to eyes, so William knew he would not be able to gaze long in that direction without it looking obvious.

Tavington moved his eyes naturally, but quickly to his right, enough to focus but not long enough to linger.

The white flash that William had seen was of Jim Wilkins' shirt sleeve. Tavington felt momentarily relieved as he remembered that his former fellow dragoon officer was coming by this afternoon on business. He'd received the message that morning.

Tavington glanced again that direction, long enough to see Wilkins darting and sneaking through the trees and brush. By his moves, William could tell that James had seen what was going on and jumped into action to help. The general prayed silently that his friend and neighbor would hurry and make a move.

"Well, Tavington," said Martin as he stepped back a little from Melanie, "It's time for you to have a share of the pain that you visited on my family." With that, Benjamin pulled his pistol, raised it slowly to make a show of it, then aimed it at little Mary Tavington, still in the pen.

Melanie shook her head and wept hard. "No! God no! Mary!"

BANG!

A loud shot rang out, startling all that were near. A small cloud of blood hung for an instant in the air as blood sprayed from Benjamin Martin's hand as the bullet tore through it. As it did it knocked the gun from his hand, the weapon landing on the ground a few feet from him. The militia colonel grabbed his hand and fell to the ground, yelping in pain.

Instantly Jim and William sprang into action. William ran a few steps then dove onto the ground quickly grabbing up the pistol that had been knocked from Martin's hand. Equally as fast, Wilkins dashed from the woods and into the glade, pulling his saber as he ran. William aimed the gun at Martin, who was struggling back to his feet.

James, now at the fence, sliced through Melanie's bonds, freeing her. "Take the children and run!" he yelled at Mrs. Tavington.

And though her thigh was bleeding profusely and burning in pain, Melanie limped as best as she could to the gate of the pen. She opened it, grabbed the lamb up from the ground, knowing that taking the animal would entice the twins to chase her to safety.

"Come! Will! Mary! Chase mama and lammie!" she shouted. And so they fled, not stopping until they made it into the mill office. Once in there, she released the baby sheep onto the floor where the twins seated themselves and played with it. Then she promptly collapsed in pain onto the floor, pulling herself by her arms over to the wall. The young wife and mother pushed herself up to sitting, propping her body up against the wall, watching her children. Again she fought to stay conscious.

Outside in the clearing, Martin was trying to get back to his feet. Now outnumbered, the militia colonel wanted to flee for now hoping to fight another day.

Wilkins through a bag of load to Tavington, who quickly loaded the pistol from where he was on the ground. He aimed at the fleeing Martin.

BANG! Another shot rang out. Tavington shot Benjamin in the thigh, effectively dropping the man's body to the ground. But even then, the man still tried to get back to his feet to run.

As the prostrate man was struggling to get up, Wilkins stepped near him, raised his sword, and drilled the point through the colonel's shoulder, pinning him to the ground firmly like a collected and displayed insect.

William quickly got to his own feet and loaded the pistol a second time. Both Tavington and Jim, so tall, moved in to look down on their enemy, who had caused so much trouble for both of them in war time _and _peace. They looked on as the man lay helpless at their feet.

Tavington raised the pistol, ready to execute the man that had ended his cavalry career and threatened his family, but James reached out and stayed his wrist. A puzzled William looked at his neighbor.

"I have something to say," Jim said simply. With that, James Wilkins bent his tall frame down to where he leaned in over Martin.

Ben, grunting with pain and teeth gritted, looked up at the man.

"I have a confession," Wilkins began, looking into the prostrate colonel's eyes. "When you told Elizabeth of what you did at Fort Wilderness, and then the two of you were estranged for months, she came to me for solace. I was happy to oblige her.:

"Bastard!" Martin spat through gritted teeth.

Wilkins smiled an evil smile. "And when John Selton died, Charlotte sought comfort from me, as well."

"Damn you!" Benjamin whispered.

"It was a real pleasure to have had both of your wives in my bed," Wilkins taunted.

As he raised his body back up to its full, impressive height, Tavington was looking at his friend with stunned and rounded eyes.

"Wilkins! You scoundrel!" he jeered. Tavington had been told by Wilkins about how his family and the Putnam family were friends, and that he had liked both Charlotte and Elizabeth, local beauties, as he was growing up. However, both fathers had died young, and the two families grew apart after their deaths.

"I always hoped his wives would have told him," James said. "As a gentleman, I've been discreet about this all these years. Bridget doesn't know."

"Your secret is safe with me," William assured.

Tavington reached over and pulled the sabre out of Martin's should, eliciting a pained groan from the former militia colonel. Jim instantly put his booted foot onto Benjamin's injured shoulder to hold him steady.

William, without hesitation, plunged the sword into Martin's chest, running it through his heart. Blood oozed out quickly as there was a last gasp of air from Colonel Benjamin Martin. Then, his eyes closed.

Wilkins and Tavington stood stock still over the man, wanting to make sure he was dead, yet unable to believe it. After another moment, James broke the silence.

"I know where we can dispose of him," he said with Tavington's full attention. "There's a dark swamp between here and Camden, not well known."

"We can weight his body down," William chimed in, "No one will ever find him."

"Right! Check on your family," instructed Jim, "and I'll do something with him for the time being."

With that, Will ran toward the mill to see to Melanie and the twins. As he did, Jim to hold of the dead Martin's arms and dragged his body into a clump of bushes, hiding it there.

Once at the mill, William was relieved to see his children playing blissfully with the lamb, and unharmed. But he was worried when he saw his wife, white as a sheet, slumped against a wall. The general knelt down at her side, touching her cheek with his hand.

"Darling, it's over," he said. "I killed Benjamin Martin."

Melanie, overcome with emotion over the whole incident, fell forward into her husband's arms. She cried hard, sorrowful that William had to commit murder.

"Oh, William," she sobbed.

Tavington put his hands firmly on her shoulders and pushed her back a bit to where she could see his face. "Listen to me," William began, "You can never tell anyone of this. If you do, Wilkins and I will be hanged. You and Bridget would be widows with children. You don't want that, do you?"

"No….no," Melanie sniffled. "I'll never tell!" She threw her arms around Will's shoulders, burying her face in his shoulder once again.

Wilkins soon joined them in the mill's office. "Is everyone alright?"

"The children are fine," William said. With that, he pulled Melanie's skirt up to reveal the stab wound on her left thigh, which was bleeding horribly.

Tavington shook his head. "We can't send for a doctor," William said in despair. "He will ask too many questions."

"I'll fetch Bridget," Wilkins volunteered. With that, he rose to leave, but was stopped by Tavington.

"Jim," he said, "You have my thanks. How do I ever repay you?"

"Not necessary," Wilkins said as William shook his hand. "I'll be back with Bridget in a bit."

William knelt back down and began tearing strips from Melanie's petticoat, binding her leg wound. When he was done, he went to the glade to retrieve the goat cart and picnic items. Melanie waited quietly, resting against the wall and watching the children in the few moments her husband was gone.

Back in just a few minutes, Tavington gathered the twins into the wagon then went back to help his wife. She put her arm around his neck as he helped her up to standing.

"Darling, you're going to have to try to walk to the house," William advised, "so that no one will know you're hurt."

Melanie nodded, and began the walk to the house. She grit her teeth with each step, groaning lowly. All the way, she leaned heavily on William for support. Near the house and eyes of the servants there, she did her best not to limp.

Mrs. Sloane, who was sweeping the porch, saw the Tavington family coming back to the house. She immediately knew something was wrong. She set her broom against the wall and started down the veranda steps.

"Good Lord!" she exclaimed. "What happened?"

"Uh….the heat got to her," William lied as Melanie now hung on him, close to passing out.

"I knew it!" Mrs. Sloane swore. "I tried to talk her out of it! I knew the heat would affect her in that condition!"

With that, the head servant walked toward them. "Let me help—"

"No. I'm going to put her to bed," Tavington cleverly demurred. "Mrs. Wilkins is coming over to sit with her this afternoon."

"Oh, very well, sir," Sloane said without further thought.

"Diedre," General Tavington called as he helped Melanie into the house.

"Yes sir," she answered in the hall, curtsying to the couple.

"Could you please take care of the children the rest of the day, please," he requested calmly. "Mrs. Tavington isn't feeling well."

"Yes sir," she said, then sashayed out the door and down to the cart to retrieve the twins.

~/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/~

A half hour later, the Wilkins' appeared, William greeting them on the porch. As Bridget made her way into the house, Tavington turned to the head housekeeper, still out on the porch.

"Mrs. Sloane, Major Wilkins and I have business to attend to today," he announced. "We will return later this evening. Mrs. Wilkins will be here the rest of the day and her children will be joining her after their naps this afternoon."

"Very well, sir," she answered.

With that, the two men set off, walking nonchalantly toward the glade by the mill, where Martin's dead body lay hidden. Once there, they wrapped the dead man in old flour sacks, binding it with rope, then tying it to a large rock, shaped like a donut that had been used years before as an old boat anchor.

Wilkins waited nervously by the hidden body as Tavington went to fetch the covered wagon for their short trip. Jim was relieved to see it coming down the lane. He and William quickly loaded Martin's corpse into the back of the vehicle and covered it with canvas.

Within minutes they set off in a hurry, time being of the essence. Because of the intense August heat, it would be only a matter of time before the dead man began to stink. They urged the horses along the road as fast as they could toward the old swamp that Wilkins had picked out as Benjamin Martin's resting place.

~/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/~

For hours, the two women waited for their husbands to return. Bridget tended Melanie's wound, reminding her of taking care of the girl five years ago when they'd first met, when the officers brought her to Fort Carolina, stabbed many more times than this and near death.

The two old friends cried together today and comforted each other, swearing again that they would never breathe a word about what their husband's had done. They both had no desire to be widows raising families without husbands.

Late that evening, Jim Wilkins and William Tavington finally appeared after having deposited Benjamin Martin in a watery grave at the black water swamp. Both men hugged and held their wives tightly, happy that a syphilitic and insane Martin would never, ever bother them again.


	84. Chapter 84 Life Is Worth Living

Readers! Oh my God! This is really it! This is the end! The last chapter! This story, started in 2002 is done! I can hardly believe it. I hope you have enjoyed the journey as much as I have. Thanks to everyone for reading.

Thanks Trace and Est.

JScorpio

Chapter 84 Life Is Worth Living

_Early December 1783…_

In little over three months since Benjamin Martin's death, news and rumors flew all about the area. It had become known that the ill man had been brought home from the asylum in Charles Towne, but had disappeared without a trace. It was assumed that the crazy former militia colonel, in the end stages of syphilis and suffering from insanity, had either run away from his farm or wandered off on one of his less than lucid days.

The Martin family had mounted a search for him, even offering a reward. The area had been canvassed for the popular local farmer and militia leader, but no sign of him could be found. The family had even asked the authorities to question the Wilkins and Tavington families and search their homes and plantations. Nothing had been found.

William Tavington and James Wilkins both breathed a bit easier when the searches for the man and the questionings finally ceased. They hoped and prayed that the alligators and other wildlife had made a quick meal of Martin in his watery swamp grave.

~/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/~

"Oh!...Oh, my God!...Ah!" screamed Mrs. Tavington. "Please! I just want this baby out!"

"Not much longer," Bridget reassured, taking her tired friend's hand. "She thinks the baby will be here two to three hours."

"No!" Melanie wailed. "I can't take this pain much longer!"

"Melanie, come now. Yes you can!" Mrs. Wilkins cheered. "Remember how painful Mary's breech birth was?"

"I'd rather not!" Melanie cried.

"The baby is in good position here, so it should not be any worse than Mary's birth," Bridget reminded her friend.

After a minute, the contraction passed. Thankful to be between labor pains, Melanie sank back onto the bed and pillow. "I'm so tired," she sobbed. "I don't have the strength—"

"Of course you do!" Mrs. Wilkins protested. "You can do it! You're strong and you'll get through this birth and others in the future!"

After a few moments of respite an unhampered breathing, another hard contraction moved through Melanie's abdomen. This one hurt even more than the last.

She squeezed Bridget's hand tightly as her other hand grabbed a fistful of bed linen. She yelled out in pain again.

"Oh….God…it hurts!," she cried. "Oh, WILLIAM!"

Down the hall in the sitting alcove on the second floor of the Tavington's mansion, the general had heard most of his wife's pained cries and felt badly that there was nothing he or anyone could do for her discomfort. He jumped to his feet when he heard her call his name. William was alarmed, afraid that something was going wrong with the birth.

Mrs. Sloane breezed past him with a pot of fresh, hot water and some clean linens. Will bolted from his spot and quickly caught up to her outside his bedchamber.

"Would you please check on her," a worried Tavington requested, "and let me know how she's doing?"

"Of course, sir."

William watched anxiously as the servant disappeared into his bedroom. In a couple of minutes, she returned, Tavington waiting on her. "Well?" he asked.

"She is doing fine, general," she said, "even though her labor is progressing slowly. She and the baby are well."

"Thank you."

"You haven't eaten," Mrs. Sloane remarked. "I'll send up some tea and bread for you."

"Thank you," he said, sounding a bit lost.

William paced for a few moments, filled with worry for his wife and unborn child. Melanie had gone into labor just as they were going to bed last night. He sat up with her most of the night while awaiting the midwife. He had refused to send work to Bridget Wilkins until the morning, wanting her to get sleep for her own children and to help attend Melanie. In the morning, both the midwife and Mrs. Wilkins had arrived, much to the relief of Tavington.

After a few moments, General Tavington stopped pacing the small room and looked out the window. His wife's cries of pain continued to ring out throughout the house.

William felt a gentle tug on the leg of his breeches. He looked down to see his 22 month old twins standing there. They both looked up at him with large, innocent eyes.

"Mommy cwy," Mary said innocently.

"Mama hurt?" Little Will asked.

William sat down and lifted each child onto his knees. He tried to talk soothingly to them as he held his two little angels on his lap.

"Yes. It hurts Mama to have a baby," he said, "But she is brave and strong. She will be fine."

"I want Mama," Will said laying his head on his father's strong shoulder.

"I know," William acknowledged. "But you can't go to her right now. Just a little while longer and then you can see her."

"Diedre!" yelled Tavington.

"Yes sir!" she called as she ascended the stairway.

"Would you please take the children outside for awhile?"

"Yes, sir." She complied, taking each child's hand and leading them out of the room. "Come children. Let's go for a walk."

Alone again in the alcove, William collapsed back onto the comfy chair and closed his eyes. Although he could still hear his wife's cries of pain, he hoped he would fall asleep.

~/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/~

Two hours later, Melanie found herself near the end of eighteen hours of labor. It was late afternoon, and Mrs. Sloane was lighting the candles in the room as darkness began to settle in.

Bridget sat behind Mrs. Tavington on the bed, helping her friend to sit up to better bear down with each push.

"The head is out, Mrs. Tavington," the midwife informed. "One more push should deliver the baby."

"Oh!" Melanie whimpered.

"Come on, one more strong push," said Mrs. Wilkins. "You can do it!"

With that, Melanie took a deep breath and pushed as hard as she could, holding it as long as she could. In a few seconds, she felt the pain subside a bit as the baby slid out of her body.

"It's a girl," the midwife exclaimed.

Mrs. Tavington flopped back onto the bed and began to cry tears of relief, and of mixed emotions. She was happy that the birth was normal, and thrilled to have a healthy child. But she was upset that it wasn't a boy for she had so wanted to give William another son.

"I didn't give him a son," she wept. "I know he wants another boy."

Bridget leaned on over her and dabbed at her friend's tears with a handkerchief. "Nonsense!", she rebuked. "He will be happy to have a healthy girl!"

Melanie nodded mutely as she fought to keep her exhausted eyes open. Within a few minutes, Mrs. Tavington and the baby had both been clean up. The midwife showed the bundled baby to her.

"She's beautiful," Melanie said, reaching up to touch the girl's head. "Her hair is light," she noted. The twins both had dark hair like their father.

"I'm so tired," Melanie declared. "Would you please take her to William to hold?"

"Yes, Ma'am," the midwife complied.

The woman exited the room with the bundle in her arms and padded down the hallway toward the alcove where William sat. The man was lightly dozing in the chair.

"General Tavington," she said softly.

The voice woke him right up out of his light sleep. He jumped to his feet looking at the bundle the older woman held.

"General," she said as she pulled back the cover to reveal the infant's face, "Your daughter."

She presented the baby to the man, who willingly took it. The surprised officer smiled, taken aback.

"We have a girl," he said as he looked in wonder at the babe in his arms.

"She's healthy?" he asked.

"Yes," the midwife answered. "Very strong."

"And my wife?"

"She is well," assured the woman. "But she is very tired. That's why she wanted you to hold the baby first."

"Can I see my wife now?"

"Yes. Go on in," the midwife permitted. "She's resting."

William walked quietly into their bedroom still holding his newborn daughter. He was met by a smiling Bridget.

"Well, what do you think, William?" the Irish woman asked.

"She's perfect!" he said, looking at the baby with a smile.

"I'll take my leave now," Bridget said, touching the baby. As she walked toward the door, William called softly after her.

"Thank you."

"Of course," she answered. "I'll send Jim over to look in on you in a couple of hours." With that, she left the Tavington's alone.

The chair next to the bed creaked as William sat down in it. Melanie's eyes fluttered open at the subtle noise to see her husband looking lovingly at their new baby girl. She smiled as she watched his large thumb softly stroking the babe's tiny cheek.

Tavington looked at his wife to find her quiet and awake, smiling up at him. "Thank you, darling," he said softly, "for a healthy, beautiful child."

"And thank the Lord that you are fine, as well," he added.

Just then, the baby began to cry. "I think she's hungry," William guessed.

Melanie sat up slowly, then undid her bodice to expose her left breast. She took the baby from her husband and put the child to her chest.

William watched in amazement as the child latched onto the nipple offered her. He smiled as Melanie gazed down happily on her newborn daughter, who was sucking blissfully.

"What shall we name her?" Tavington asked.

Mrs. Tavington was quiet for a moment, then spoke. "Why don't we call her 'Regina'?"

The general was silent a moment, then a deep look of live for his wife cross his face, lighting it up. He leaned forward and took Melanie's mouth in a slow, loving kiss.

"Thank you," he said simply, his lips curving up into a smile. There was a look of absolute love for this woman in his sapphire eyes.

Melanie had chosen to name the girl after William's sister, Regina. She was older than him by one year, and had been the closest of all his siblings. They played together and trusted each other all through their childhood. He loved Regina and looked up to her. At seventeen, she contracted Pneumonia and died. A sixteen year old William was at her bedside when she took her last breath.

Her death hurt him and affected him deeply. He had only spoken of Regina to Melanie a few times, and of her death only once. But it was enough to tell his wife that Regina had been a most beloved sister.

William reached over and stroked the suckling baby, touching the soft downy hair on her tiny head. "She has your blonde hair," he commented. "I'm sure she will be as beautiful as her mother."

Tavington kissed his wife lovingly. Another silence passed between the newborn's parents as they continued watching her suckle her first meal at Melanie's breast.

"William, are you disappointed that I didn't give you a son?" she asked cautiously.

"Of course not, Melanie! On the contrary. I'm pleased that we have a healthy daughter, and that you are well."

"I love you," she said, giving him a kiss.

"Are you up to visiting with Will and Mary?" asked William.

"Yes! Please bring them in."

A few moments later, the baby, done feeding, had fallen asleep in her mother's arms. Melanie eagerly awaited seeing the twins and their reaction to the new baby.

After another minute, the door opened and William ushered the children in. They both looked up at the bed, then ran to the side of it.

"Mama!" they squealed. Melanie leaned over the side of the bed and lightly hugged her two older children. She held the bundle down so that they could see.

Tavington knelt down between his twins. "Mary. Will. This is your baby sister, Regina."

"Baby!" Will said excitedly. The strong young boy, overcome with curiosity, gripped the bedspread in his little fists and pulled himself up onto the bed. He climbed over his mother's legs and settled in next to her, looking puzzled at his little sister.

"Baby?" he asked again, pointing to Regina. Melanie nodded 'yes'.

Then Will pointed to his mother's belly, not as largely rounded has it had been. With a quizzical frown on his little face, he asked, "Baby?"

"This is the baby that was in Mommy's belly," Tavington informed his little boy.

Will looked even more surprised, and pointed again to his mother's abdomen. "Baby."

Melanie and William smiled and chuckled at one another, knowing their son was a bit too young to understand it all.

Mary, still standing quietly and shyly by her father, peeked out around his legs.

"Mary, come meet your new baby sister," Mrs. Tavington coaxed her toddler daughter. The girl backed a step away, a little afraid and overwhelmed at it all.

After a another minute, the toddler began impatiently stamping her feet, dancing at her father's long legs. She held her arms up to him. "Da da! Da Da!"

"Oh, Mary," he said a bit exasperated at her. "It's just your baby sister. There is nothing to be afraid of. You will soon be bullying her!"

"Oh , William!" Melanie exclaimed, rolling her eyes in frustration at her husband.

Mary laid her head on William's shoulder and put her thumb in her mouth, unsure of what to make of the new baby. The toddler seemed to calm as she sucked her thumb, her eyes darting between her mother and the new baby sister.

After a few moments, William unhooked Mary from his neck and placed her on the bed. "Mary, go see your mama," he instructed. With that, Tavington reached for the baby, which his wife willingly passed into his arms.

Tavington watched as Mary crawled up the bed and into her mother's arms. He smiled as his wife hugged and kissed both twins.

Interrupting the little family's time together was a knock at the door. The general gave the infant back to Melanie, then marched to the door.

Mrs. Tavington watched as her husband answered the door then disappeared through it. She cocked her head to the side, trying to discern the muffled voices through the door. She smiled when she couldn't hear and quickly focused her attentions back on her two toddlers and newborn baby.

After a few minutes, William entered the room again. He had just accepted the congratulations for the new baby from Mr. Barnes and Mr. Andrews, and was alerted by Mrs. Sloane that dinner would soon be on the table for him and the twins.

As he walked toward the bed, he couldn't help but smile at the sight before him: his young family. Will and Mary wee nestled into bed, each on either side of Melanie, cuddling closely with their mother. They each gazed in wonderment at the sleeping baby sister, Regina, held by his wife.

General Tavington sat down near the foot of the bed watching his family, taking it all in. An amazement consumed him at the sight of his stunning wife, and three beautiful and healthy children. A warm feeling of love and satisfaction came over his whole being as he realized that this was the happiest time of his life. He had everything he wanted: A pretty, loving wife, healthy children including a male heir, a successful past military career, a prosperous farming and mill business, a lovely mansion and abundant land. William didn't want anything more, and even questioned if there was possibly anything else that could make him any more blissful that he was now. There wasn't—he had all he ever needed right before him.

Melanie looked up at him and over the din of the two twins' chatter, she mouthed, "I love you, William."

He smiled back at her, his blue eyes sparkling bright with pride, love, and adoration. "I love you, too!" he replied softly.

~/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/~

William and Melanie Tavington lived many more happy years together. Three years after the birth of Regina, Melanie gave birth to a second son, in 1786, who they named Alexander Hayden Tavington. In 1789, the Tavington's were blessed with another daughter, Josephine "Josie" Tavington.

The Tavington's continued to be great and close friends with the Wilkins family, who had a growing brood, as well. James Kilpatrick Wilkins, Jr., and Mary Tavington married and gave both sets of parents grandchildren, sealing the bond of the two families.

THE END

Epilogue to come later.


	85. Epilogue Part 1 Memories

**Author's note: Sorry it has taken me so long to get this up. I was going to post epilogue all in one chapter but can see now that it would be huge, so will post in parts. Again, thanks readers for staying with this epic story. Thanks to Julie, Est, and Tracy for ideas and support. **

**JScorpio...Indiana...COLD AND FROZEN during this huge winter storm we are having!**

**I hope you will enjoy the epilogue, which follows an afternoon in which one of the characters recalls a few memories.**

Epilogue –Part 1 Memories

_Late Summer 1804 South Carolina_

William Tavington sat on the shaded porch of the beautiful mansion that his late father-in-law, Hayden Prescott, built for his family a generation before. A gentle breeze blew, enough to cool the late August heat just a bit. He closed his eyes and sighed as he ran his hand over his hair, his fingers slightly loosening the tie holding his wavy mane back. His afternoon reverie was interrupted by a slight tug on his sleeve.

"Ganpaw up?" a little angelic voice asked. The insistent tug on Tavington's sleeve continued until he opened his eyes to find his two year old granddaughter Millie Wilkins standing beside his chair.

She began to dance impatiently next to the seat, her arms out, reaching toward her grandfather. "Up Ganpaw," she pleaded in her broken toddler language, "Up. Up!"

William smiled down at the girl as he reached for her. Picking her up, he said, "Very well, child. Come up here and keep grandfather company."

As he set her on his lap, he laughed at her wild, curly locks, always out of control. He tussled the unruly waves with his fingers, still marveling at just how blonde her hair was: platinum; nearly white.

"What is your mother ever going to do with your hair, Millie Mill," he teased, calling her by his favorite pet name for the girl.

His granddaughter smiled and pointed over to her older brother on the other side of the porch. He was playing with a shepherd puppy. The dog was the lone survivor of a small litter of three sickly pups born recently.

"Ganpaw! Buppy!" Millie called excitedly.

"Yes, darling, I see the puppy," her grandfather replied.

William watched the boy with the dog for an instant. "Jamie, not too rough with the dog, huh," Tavington called to his grandson. "Play gently."

"Yes sir," the four year old boy answered.

Little Millie eased back, leaning on her grandfather's chest as he held her. She looked at her rag doll as she bounced it up and down on her own lap. William and the girl sat quietly together for a few moments, relishing the warm breeze blowing softly about them.

The sound of footsteps on the wood broke the silence. Young Jamie Wilkins was now standing next to the two of them with a questioning look on his face.

"Can we take a walk, Gwanpaw?" he asked in his unhoned child language.

General Tavington blinked the near sleep from his eyes as he shifted in his seat, little Millie still upon his lap. "Yes, I suppose so," he answered.

"Can Brownie come along," asked Jamie, nodding back toward the shepherd pup.

"Yes," Tavington said as he stood up, setting his granddaughter back upon her feet on the porch. "The dog needs his exercise as well."

William walked across the porch, his granddaughter holding his hand behind him, making his way toward the front door. Once there, he peeked his head into the house. He looked about the quiet grand room until he spied his daughter, Mary Tavington Wilkins, lying on the divan. The twenty-two year old woman had a damp folded rag upon her forehead and eyes, and one of her hands rested on her very pregnant belly.

"Mary, I'm taking the children for a walk," he announced.

She removed the cloth and looked at her father, groaning lightly as she did. "Are Jimmy and Will back yet?" Her husband and twin brother had gone hunting on horseback a few hours earlier.

"No. Go ahead and rest, though. Everything is fine," Tavington reassured his eldest daughter. William knew she didn't feel well in her condition and the August heat of the Carolinas wasn't helping matters any.

Mary recovered her eyes and let her head sink back into the pillow, glad that her father was spending time with her children this afternoon so that she could find some much needed rest.

The general turned to leave with both children beside him. He watched Jamie before him step slowly down the stairs, as he helped his granddaughter, holding her hand tightly, down the steps. Once down on the driveway, they crossed the lane to the green, William and Millie following Jamie and the puppy, leading the way.

At 53, William Tavington was still slim and muscular, and despite a few more lines and wrinkles about his face, he was just as handsome as he was when he and Melanie Prescott had married twenty three years ago. His dark hair, still long, now held noticeable streaks of grey randomly placed. He looked casual as he walked with his grandchildren, wearing only a white linen shirt, a light tan waistcoat and breeches.

Tavington watched diligently as the Wilkins children scampered ahead of him on the lawn, playing and skipping about with the little dog. Just as they reached a large shade tree, the sound of hammering caught William's ear. He glanced back, then turned to watch two of his farm hands working busily on one of the mill's delivery wagons. They were pounding away, mounting new wheels on the thing.

As William watched them, his mind drifted back to a night with his family, twenty years before, in May of 1784.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

_May 1784…._

"Damn it!," William swore as he got up from the wooden crate her was sitting on.

"What is it, Will? What's wrong?" Melanie asked with concern.

"It's the wheel," he replied. "Our daylight is gone now and I can't fix it by the lantern; I can't see what I'm doing."

Tavington rubbed his sore neck and heaved a deep sigh. "I know we're fairly close to home, but I don't want to chance making things worse."

He turned back from staring intensely at the crippled Conestoga wagon to looking at his wife. "I'm afraid we'll have to spend the night in the wagon."

A crack of thunder roared through the air as lightning lit up the sky. The wind was blowing in a strong breeze which had made the warm May temperature drop to make it a chilly evening.

"I'm sure I can shore it up enough in the morning to limp home," surmised the General. "If that doesn't work, we'll unhitch the horses and ride home."

General Tavington had taken his family along on his day long business trip today to Bishopville. Melanie had been anxious to visit a Prescott family friend and former neighbor, Mrs. Zimry. She had only recently discovered that the old widow woman had relocated from the countryside and into town. The woman had been anxious to meet again with the only Prescott family member left living and to meet the Tavington children.

After the long day, they had started home and were within a few miles of the farm when the wagon began to steer strangely. Tavington pulled the thing over to check out the situation and discovered the trouble in one of the back wheel areas.

The family had waited patiently nearby while William diagnosed the problem. The twins, Mary and Will, played happily on a blanket under a lantern hanging on a limb above. Melanie had been holding baby Regina while watching her husband intently lest he need some help.

The storm was getting closer. Soon, another, louder crack of thunder sent the twins scurrying from their blanket over to their father, each grabbing one of his legs. The roar caused baby Regina to start crying in her mother's arms.

Melanie shifted the babe to where her head rested just under her mother's chin. "Shh…

There there," Mrs. Tavington soothed. "Mama's here."

Tavington knelt down and put his arms around his children, comforting them. "Mary. Will. It's alright. Papa has you." He kissed each toddler's head as he held them close.

The wind whipped around them, making it feel even colder. Melanie trotted quickly over to the blanket the children had played on and scooped it up as the lantern swayed where it hung on the branch above.

William stood back up, picking Mary up in his arms as he did. "Alright you two. Into the wagon with Mummy." He lifted his daughter over the tailgate and into the vehicle, then did the same with his son. Melanie soon joined her children inside, leaving her husband outside to finish up.

In the wagon, Melanie quickly found all the blankets and pillows she could and put together a makeshift bed for the family on the floor of the thing. Barely four feet wide, it would be a tight fit for all of them, but she knew that with the family tucked together cozily would help to keep them warm during the cool night.

Mrs. Tavington sat the twins on the bed, then laid baby Regina on her back, knowing she would soon turn over onto her stomach—something she'd just learned to do. With the children safe there, she pulled out a large, folded oil cloth to put over them if the canvas roof of the wagon should leak during the night.

Giving a quick look at her children, Melanie then exited the wagon again. She found her husband securing the canvas top down tightly.

"What can I help you with?" she asked.

"Nothing," William replied. "I'm nearly finished. I'll join you in a moment."

"Nonsense! It's starting to rain, Will. The two of us together could get this done faster. Perhaps I could stake the wagon down."

"No!" Tavington answered sternly, a bit of irritation in his voice. "Get back in the wagon with the children."

"I'm not an invalid," Mrs. Tavington sighed and looked down, only wanting to help William. She moved back to the front of the wagon.

William sucked in a breath when he looked at Melanie, knowing he'd upset her. After all, she'd only wanted to help him. He felt badly at brushing her off so quickly. He turned on his heel and met up with her at the entrance to the wagon, where he grabbed her hand.

She stopped on the step into the wagon, turning to look down at her husband.

"I know you're not, Melanie," he stated, addressing her reply. "I don't want to risk hurting you or this one inside you." William's fingertips touched her belly, barely swollen.

She nodded mutely and climbed into the wagon, leaving Tavington to finish up outside. Back inside the wagon, she looked at the children on the bed. Will and Mary were yawning and rubbing their eyes. The six month old Regina had indeed rolled from her back onto her stomach and was sucking on her fist.

Melanie sat down on a bench, her hand moving to her abdomen. She hadn't expected to get pregnant again so soon after Regina was born. The young wife also wasn't thrilled about having another baby so quickly, but she kept her feelings to herself, knowing that the moment she felt the baby movie within her, that she'd become excited to bear another child.

She was only three months pregnant, but as soon as she'd told William she was with child just a couple of weeks ago, she'd noticed a change in their household. It was like the last time, when she carried Regina. The servants and William did everything, trying to make sure she did nothing to exert herself. She knew her husband had wanted things that way ever since losing their baby boy Worthe, who had been stillborn. She could tell that Will, though stoic, had ached when they lost the child, and he seemed determined that she wouldn't suffer another miscarriage or stillbirth.

Melanie sat down onto the bedding with the children tucking each on them in. Will and Regina quieted immediately and fell asleep nearly as fast. She had more trouble getting Mary to calm, who squirmed in her arms. The girl wanted her papa.

Outside, the rain was light but enough to be a nuisance to Tavington as he secured the area. He quickly finished staking the wagon down and chocking the wheels. He then tied the horses to a nearby tree, then stopped to look at the canvas top of the wagon, giving it a tug for good measure. The general then pulled himself up into the wagon.

The man bent his tall frame down to get under the canvas top, stopping to turn and tie the front flaps of the material, sealing them in for the night. He spied his family bedded down on the floor of the wagon.

"We're secure for the night," he said as he took off his wet coat and laid it aside.

"Dada!" Mary called, waggling her arms impatiently at her father.

William smiled at her as he stepped onto the makeshift bed, easing his sore body down to sit on the covers. He pulled his daughter into his arms and kissed her head. The girl immediately settled into his lap.

"Now why aren't you asleep yet, young lady, like your brother and sister are?"

"Dada night night," she whispered.

William chuckled at the girl. He knew that she would never fall asleep without a kiss and hug from her father. Indeed the girl put her thumb in her mouth and laid her head on her papa's child right away, closing her eyes.

The general watched as Melanie tucked the covers around Will and baby Regina. Mrs. Tavington looked up at the canvas top of the wagon.

"We're not going to get wet, are we?" asked his wife with dread as the rain beat down on the material.

"No," William answered confidently. "The cloth was freshly oiled before we left. It won't leak."

Melanie looked at Mary, now asleep on her father's shoulder, thumb having fallen out of her mouth.

"She just needed to tell her papa 'good night'", commented the young mother with a smile. She touched the girl's cheek, stroking it lovingly with her finger tips.

Tavington gathered his sleeping daughter into his arms as his wife pulled the blankets back, making a place for the girl. He laid her down gently in the bed beside him as Melanie covered him up. William then leaned down and placed a loving kiss on her cheek.

"Good night, darling," Melanie bid, leaning over to brush a light kiss across her husband's lips.

"Good night," he replied in a whisper. The general then reached upwards to dim the lantern.

Mrs. Tavington fell asleep nearly as fast as her children had, her pregnant body exhausted from a day of wagon travel, visiting, and minding the children. William, on the other hand, laid awake.

The general found it difficult to sleep on the wagon floor though Melanie had lined it with the padding of blankets. Just as well, he heard every sound outside the wagon, keeping him awake and on alert, guarding against highwaymen or ferocious animals that would dare to venture near. William felt for his pistol, close enough for him to reach for in an emergency but out of the children's way.

In a couple of house, William's eyes became heavy and he finally dozed off. But only a few minutes afterwards, he was roused by baby Regina's fussing.

The man sat up and raised the wick on the lantern to light the darkness. The babe was crying quietly, trying to suck her fist.

Tavington looked at his wife and the twins, still sleeping soundly through the infant's cries. He knew they'd had a busy day that had probably worn them all out.

"Come here to papa, angel," he murmured as he picked up his six month old daughter.

"What's the matter, my love," asked Tavington, looking down at her cradled in his arms.

After a quick check of her pants which were clean, and surmising that she needed more than just the attention of being held, the general reached over an shook his wife awake. "Melanie."

Mrs. Tavington slowly opened her eyes. She sat up when she spied her husband holding the baby.

"I think she's hungry."

Tavington continued to hold his daughter as his wife readied herself to feed the girl. He watched as Melanie quickly undid her dress bodice, then slipped her left arm out of it, baring her left breast.

Mrs. Tavington reached for the baby, taking her from her husband's arms. She shifted the infant in her arms and watched intently as the babe easily latched onto the nipple and began to suck greedily.

"I'm going to check on the horses and relieve myself," William whispered. With that, Tavington quickly got to his feet and ducked out of the wagon. He reappeared after fifteen minutes to find his wife still nursing their daughter.

The man looked lovingly at the two of them. He watched for a moment as Regina clutched Melanie's index finger in her little fist, gripping and re-gripping it as she suckled. William put his hand gently on his daughter's head, then leaned over and kissed her little forehead.

As he rose back up, he noticed his wife looking at him like a school girl with a crush on a boy. Indeed, in the soft glow of the lantern, Melanie was recalling seeing William's face for the first time five and a half years earlier as she recovered at Fort Carolina. Upon awakening from weeks of unconsciousness, his was one of the first faces she'd seen above her bed. She thought him handsome, but his British red uniform, in fact the handful of crimson coats about her that morning had frightened her.

Despite the fear at that time, and after all the years and circumstances that had passed, she still thought her husband very handsome.

William cocked his head to the side and regarded Melanie inquisitively. "What is it?"

"I think you're the most handsome man I've even seen," she said innocently.

Tavington smiled and looked away. He looked back at her with his eyebrows raised. "I think that's the first time you've ever told me that."

Melanie blushed and looked down at the baby. Regina was still nursing, but her eyelids were heavy.

"I think she's nearly done," Melanie predicted.

With the baby still at her left breast, she was taken by surprise as her husband leaned forward and kissed her. The kiss was slow and deep, loving and lustful. As he did, William's left hand slipped into Melanie's open bodice and lightly caressed her right breast. She sighed into the kiss as his hand kneaded the breast a little harder, catching the nipple in his fingers. She soon moaned against Tavington's lips as she felt her nipple becoming erect, sending sparks down her body, and settling between her legs.

William pulled back from the kiss whispering, "You look most beautiful holding our children."

"Oh, Will," she sighed, her eyelids hooded with lust and wanting him badly. "How could you do this to me? The children are next to us and—"

William interrupted her protestations when he leaned forward again, this time to whisper in her ear. "I promise to make love to you in the privacy of our bed chamber when we return home in the morning."

Melanie Tavington smiled at her husband, then looked down to see a satisfied Regina, eyes glazed over with a full belly, looking back up at her mother.

"Would you please burp her, darling?"

"Certainly," replied William taking the baby from his wife. "Come here, princess."

Tavington placed the baby on his shoulder, patting her back. The infant soon let out a loud burp. William made a face as he brought Regina down onto his lap.

"That wasn't very ladylike, Miss Tavington," he teased as he wiped the babe's mouth. The general watched as his wife finished fastening her dress back.

Just then, little Will began to stir, sitting up and looking around sleepily. The two year old boy reached out for his father, fussing.

"Papa," he cried. "Want papa!"

Tavington handed Regina to Melanie as Will climbed into his lap.

"You want to sleep by papa?" asked the general.

Little Will nodded his head yes, then laid it on his father's shoulder.

Melanie laid Regina next to her, then pulled a sleeping Mary over next to the baby. William laid his son down next to where he was. Tavington reached up to dim the lantern again, as he and his wife then settled in, both hoping for some kind of sleep before the dawn's rays could wake them.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/


	86. Epilogue Part 2 More Memories

**Author's note: Sorry for not getting to this in a more timely fashion...real life takes priority over the writing, so bear with me. Thanks for being patient. Also, proofread this very quickly so I apologize in advance for errors and I will try to get to them tomorrow (after some sleep) and correct them.**

_**The reader will find in this second part of the Epilogue, that William Tavington's summer afternoon is still filled, or haunted with, his memories...**_

_Late Summer 1804 South Carolina…the same afternoon_

The kids' squeals of laughter brought William from his thoughts. He looked about to see Jamie and Millie chasing the shepherd puppy happily. The General smiled at them, and smiled at the fact that his young family's night in the covered wagon had been uneventful. They limped home in the disabled wagon the next morning. And good to his promise, the children went with Diedre as soon as they returned home, and William made love to Melanie in the privacy of their bedroom just as he said they would.

Tavington smiled to himself at having recalled the memory of his young family's night in the wagon. Indeed his 53 years of live had proved to be mostly happy, filled with many times of joy and only a few of sorrow. His years as a husband and father had been the most fulfilling.

"Ganpaw!"

A wee voice called to him from the side. He looked over to see little Millie standing beneath a handful of trees—ones that William Tavington had planted especially with his own hands. He trotted over to where his granddaughter stood beneath one of them, looking down at the ground.

As he got closer, he could see that Millie was looking at an empty bird nest that had probably been blown from a nearby tree branch. William knelt down next to the girl putting his arm about her.

"Buhdy bye bye?" she asked, still pointing at the nest.

"Yes, sweetheart," he answered. "The birdies are gone."

"Fy?"

"Fly, yes!" her grandfather replied. "They flew away."

"Off you go," he bid, giving her a peck of a kiss on her little cheek. "Go get Jamie."

William rose, his tall frame parallel to the tree. He leaned on the thing as he watched his grandchildren skittering about. As he did, he looked up into the foliage of the tree, marveling at how much it had grown since he'd planted it.

The general sighed as he recalled when he'd put the tree into the earth. It had been in the spring of 1783. He looked back down at the trunk of the tree, then back up. This was Worthe's tree. He had planted it as a way for them to remember their stillborn baby.

Tavington hated it when something would make him recall that time. He'd always push the memory from his mind. But today, though he could force away the recollection of that day when Worthe came, the memory of another day came to his mind. The household on that day too, had a somber cloud over it when he entered.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

_June 1784 ….._

William was glad to cross Highland Creek, coaxing his horse along at a leisurely pace in the water. He was now only a mile or so from home and so looking forward to getting there. He'd been gone all day, having set out on horseback to try to find the source of a lowered water level at one of the mills. Just as he'd suspected, beavers had constructed a dam upstream from the mill causing a decrease in the water flow. It had been a large one, too much for him to dismantle. He decided he'd go back tomorrow with Mr. Barnes to destroy the thing and let the water back through.

In an hour, he was riding up the lane of his plantation. As he cleared the last bend of trees, the house came into view. He saw a strange carriage parked in front of the steps. William's strong legs hugged his steed's belly, urging the beast into a gallop toward the house.

Once there, he dismounted and handed the reins to Jonas the stable boy. General Tavington raced up the steps and in the house. When he entered, he saw Dr. Bennett talking with Mrs. Sloane. The rest of the servants stood about quietly, and there was a horrid, somber tone over the whole place.

William looked up to see Diedre the servant coming down the stairs with a bundle of sheets in her arms. At the bottom, she stopped long enough to curtsy slightly to her employer. The general's eyes rounded and his mouth dropped open when he saw that the bed linens were blood stained—greatly.

Dread over took the man as he felt his heart drop into the pit of his stomach. Fearing the worst, he ran up the stairs as fast as he could, wanting to know what awaited him on the next floor, yet knowing he wouldn't want to face it.

"Melanie?" Tavington yelled. "MELANIE?"

He burst through the door of their bedroom to see Bridget Wilkins sitting next to the bed holding his wife's hand. Melanie was in tears. William raced to the bedside, pulling his wife up into his arms. Mrs. Wilkins slid quietly from the room, leaving the two of them alone.

"Oh William," she sobbed, "I'm so sorry."

Tavington held her shaking body, breathing hard and holding his emotions in, knowing he had to be strong now for her. He closed his own eyes as, squeezing back tears, feeling sorry for their loss, but worse that his wife had to suffer through this again.

Melanie buried her eyes in his shoulder. "I don't know what happened, Will! I didn't overexert myself. I don't understand. I don't know what I did to bring this on." She wept hard, consumed with her own grief and guilt.

"You didn't cause this," he comforted in a soft voice. "I know that you've been careful."

"I don't know what is wrong with me," she cried.

"There's nothing wrong with you," soothed William.

Still, Melanie kept weeping, wondering why, once again, she had lost yet another child. Tavington held her close, letting her cry, staying as stoic as possible.

"Shhh, we'll have more children," he whispered, trying to assure and comfort his distraught wife.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

William Tavington raked his finger tips up and down the tree he had planted for Worthe the spring after he had died. Then he walked to the next tree, a bit smaller, planted in the summer of 1784, after Melanie's miscarriage. The doctor had found the fetus to be a boy, tiny and intact when expelled from Mrs. Tavington's body. William took a deep breath as he looked over toward the family cemetery. This poor miscarried child was buried there, under a stone that read "Baby Boy Tavington, known only to God."

Tavington walked to yet a third tree in the small grove. When they'd lose a child, he'd planted a memorial tree for the lost one, hoping that the memories would live on in the pretty magnolias of the tree, and the sweet smell of those same flowers would carry on the breeze. He sighed as he recalled that this tree was planted for a baby girl named Laurel. She was born near the end of the year in 1787, after Alexander in 1786 and before Josie in 1789.

Laurel was a sickly baby that lived only three days. William and Melanie took turns holding the tiny babe, trying to will her into good health. Her little body gave out and the infant died in her mother's arms. Again, Mrs. Tavington had blamed herself and her seeming inability to be able to carry a baby to proper term—despite her healthy living children—and was beside herself with grief. And again, General Tavington found himself being strong and stoic, despite his own grief, to uphold his wife through the pain of losing another baby. On top of it, the twins, Will and Mary, who were aged five, and little Regina at age three were old enough to ask what had happened to their baby sister. Yet they couldn't understand, when their father tried to explain to them, why the angels had taken baby Laurel to Heaven so soon. All they could see was that their Mama cried a lot that Laurel had gone.

William closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to get the sad memories of lost children out of his mind. As he did, he heard the squeals and peals of laughter drifting on the breeze. He looked over to see Millie and Jamie jumping and rolling in the grass, playing with the shepherd pup. Tavington smiled at his grandchildren—they had certainly brought him so much happiness. He couldn't look at them without thinking of their parents: his daughter, and the Wilkins' son.

With that, he recollected a happier time. He remembered 1798, and when James Wilkins Junior came to him and asked 'for Mary's hand in marriage. Of course, William gave his consent right away. He and Melanie had known the couple to be in love with one another since childhood. Tavington was also happy that Mary was marrying well, in fact, one of the sons of one of the wealthiest men in South Carolina. And the Wilkins' were well accepted in society. He had no doubt that Mary would be secure and never want for anything.

Tavington chuckled to himself, recalling how fast Jimmy Wilkins had come to talk with him about marriage. The Tavington family had been gone fo several weeks to England to visit his mother and other relatives. William had always joked that young Jim must have missed Mary terribly, for he ended up in the Tavington's study within an hour of their return home. Melanie had commented that Mary's absence had made young Jim's heart grow only fonder.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

_Early Spring….1798_

"_Our_ wedding was here," Melanie said after a sip of wine. "Your father knew practically none of the locals that attended, but by the end of the wedding, he made friends with everyone and had charmed them all into becoming customers!"

The Tavington's, William, Melanie, Mary, Will, Regina, Alex and Josie sat about the dinner table laughing as stories were told. Young Jim Wilkins was the dinner guest of Mary, and the Tavingtons were happy to be welcoming him soon into their family. The mood was happy as wedding plans for the young couple, aged 18 and 17, were being discussed.

"We'd like to have the ceremony at the Wilkins' parlor, then return here for a reception in our gardens," Mary said.

"That would be grand, Mary," William answered. "Whatever you want."

Melanie turned her attention to young Wilkins. "Jim, I can't tell you how happy William and I are that you will be part of our family."

"Thank you, Ma'am," replied Jimmy. "My mother and father are equally as thrilled to gain Mary as a daughter in law!"

Mary looked at her mama. "Mother, I need your help finding a wedding dress."

"Of course," she replied. "We'll go to Charlotte or Charles Towne. I'm certain we will find a most beautiful one at either place."

"It doesn't matter how pretty or fancy that dress will be," General Tavington interjected, "because Mary will put it to shame."

"Oh father," Mary said, blushing furiously at his compliment.

"She is a beauty, general," Jim agreed. "My own father says that I am marrying one of the prettiest girls in South Carolina."

"Aye, that she is," William said. "My three girls are among the prettiest. Of that you will never change my opinion."

"Papa, really," a teenage Regina said, blushing herself now and rolling her eyes.

Everyone looked at nine year old Josie, the youngest of the Tavington children, and youngest girl. They had expected her to be flushed and giggling like her older sisters. Instead, she hadn't eaten a thing and was white as a sheet.

A concerned William spoke up. "What's the matter, love?"

"Nothing," Josie whispered. Her eyes were glassed over, and she seemed not to be focusing on anything.

In an instant the girl's eyes closed and she fainted on the spot. Seventeen year old Will Tavington caught his sister, preventing her from crashing onto the floor. He held her limp body in his arms, kneeling beside the dinner table. The eldest Tavington child stared in disbelief at the youngest as he heard chairs scoot away immediately from the table and frantic footsteps to that side of the table. Equally as quickly, he looked up to see the whole family gathered around him and Josie.

When they couldn't rouse her, Melanie put her hand on the child's forehead. "She's burning up!"

"Alex," General Tavington summoned, "please ride for the doctor now."

"Yes sir," answered the 12 year old boy, running from the room, headed for the door.

Jimmy Wilkins spoke up. "If you'll excuse me, I'll fetch my mother and bring her back here." After all the years of growing up next door, he knew Mrs. Tavington would want Bridget by her side helping to care for the child. And he knew his mother would want to be nowhere else at the time.

"Thank you, Jimmy," Melanie answered. "I am grateful."

/*/*/*/*/*/*/

The entire Tavington family, plus Jim and Bridget Wilkins were milling about the second floor of the Tavington home, waiting for the doctor to arrive. The physician had come the first night that little Jo had fainted and had recognized the symptoms as Malaria. And he was back today, checking the girl.

Josie's condition, in several days, had worsened. Her fever raged on, and she had weakened. The doctor, after examining the ailing girl, emerged from her bedroom with a worried General and Mrs. Tavington on his heels. Jimmy Wilkins, Mary's fiancé, moved into the room to sit by the nine year olds side. The Tavington family, as well and Bridget and Major Wilkins, gathered about the doctor to hear what he had to say.

"I'm afraid I don't have good news for you," the doctor began, his words slow and measured. "She's worse, and she's not going to get any better."

"What?" asked Mary, both her parents frozen, clearly stunned.

"I can't do anything more for her," declared Dr. Bennett. "She's dying."

Melanie felt her knees buckle, leaning onto her husband for support. "No! Oh God, No!" she cried. "William!"

Tavington held his wife firm though himself in shock. What injustice, he thought, to have another child taken from them. But this time it was different. Josie had been the light that had come back into their lives after losing three babies. She was their youngest and her nine years had been a blessing to them, taking their minds off of the infants they'd lost, and of course, bringing them so much joy. And now, they were losing her.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

_The next day….._

Josephine Ann Tavington's last hours were filled with love and sorrow. The whole family surrounded her bed, while beloved friends Jim and Bridget Wilkins kept a sentinel near the child's bedroom, affording the family their privacy, yet helping as a bridge to the servants and world outside the girl's chambers.

The doctor had done his best to keep Josie comfortable. The family talked softly to the girl and held her hand. Her brother Alex placed her favorite toy, a stuffed animal rabbit, into bed with her. Regina lovingly wiped her sister's sweaty brow. Will and Mary took turns reading aloud to their ailing sibling. Jimmy Wilkins stayed near Mary, supporting her, then would move out of the room periodically to speak with his parents.

It was hardest on Melanie and William. The loved their youngest child so much and it broke their hearts to watch her slip away. When the child's breathing slowed, Tavington pulled her limp body into his arms as he sat against the headboard, rocking her gently, willing her to be brave and strong and fight. Her mother held her hand and through her tears, told her not to be afraid, that they wouldn't leave her.

"The light is so bright," whispered Josie. William and Melanie looked at each other. It was late evening and dark outside. When they both realized the end was near, both began to cry.

Tavington tightened the child in his arms. "No, Josie," he wept. "Don't go yet. Keep fighting, angel."

"Stay Josie, _please,_" Melanie sobbed.

"Mama…Papa….," the girl murmured, barely audible.

Jimmy Wilkins held his fiancé Mary tightly as she cried onto his shoulder, trying to soothe his future wife. Will Tavington Junior wanted to wipe at his eyes but he could not for he had one arm about his brother, Alex, bravely trying to hold back his own tears. His other arm held his younger sister Regina against him, who buried her eyes in his shoulder. All the children had tried to be brave, and they had seen their mother cry many times, but seeing their father cry for the first time in front of them had been too much to bear.

"Mama…..Papa…," Josie mouthed, not a sound issuing forth. Then the girl breathed her last breath as her body rested in her father's arms. The Tavingtons cried together over the loss of their beautiful, little angel.

It was late evening when she died. After the family cleared the room, Bridget and Diedre came in to prepare the girl for burial. The two women bathed her sweat drenched body, dressed her, and lovingly brushed her hair. They put dry linens on the bed where they laid Josie out, covering her with a light sheet.

And that night, as the rest of the family and friend's slept, William and Melanie sat by their little daughter's bedside, as if keeping some kind of vigil over the dead child. The room was filled with silence, then would resonate with quiet sobbing. The two of them simply couldn't bring themselves to leave their late child's side.

Josie was buried the next day in the family cemetery. Tavington held his wife strong in his arms as she leaned hard on him for her feared her knees would buckle. Melanie cried through the whole, brief service, unable to stop. William wept openly along with his wife, caring not who saw, for he'd lost the youngest of his children after only nine short years. His wee angel was gone.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

"Uh….General."

William stood up straight from where he had leaned against the tree he'd planted in Josie's memory. Evans, one of the young farm hands that had been working on the broken delivery wagon moments before, stood in front of him.

"Sorry to disturb, you, sir," Evans apologized. "We're going to have to take the axel into the village and see if the blacksmith can't straighten it a bit."

"Certainly," answered William. "Have him put it on the mill's account."

"Surely sir." With that, the young man dashed off the get the wagon's axel taken care of.

Tavington's eyes drifted toward his left to where he looked down a slight slope, seeing the family cemetery. His sight rested on one grave in particular: Josie's. He could pick it out from the distance. Though the little girl had been gone six years now and the pain of grief had passed, he still missed her fiercely.

"Watch over her, God," he whispered as he closed his eyes and sighed.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/


	87. Epilogue Part 3 Remembering

**Readers, apologies for the long interval between updates. Real life always take priority over this fun stuff. I did a quick proofreading/editing job. It is late now-I'll try to edit and correct again in the morning. Sorry for glaring mistakes!**

**JScorpio**

Epilogue Part 3 Remembering

_1804…._

"Uh….General."

William stood up straight from where he had leaned against the tree he'd planted in Josie's memory. Evans, one of the young farm hands that had been working on the broken delivery wagon moments before, stood in front of him.

"Sorry to disturb, you, sir," Evans apologized. "We're going to have to take the axel into the village and see if the blacksmith can't straighten it a bit."

"Certainly," answered William. "Have him put it on the mill's account."

"Surely sir." With that, the young man dashed off the get the wagon's axel taken care of.

Tavington's eyes drifted toward his left to where he looked down a slight slope, seeing the family cemetery. His sight rested on one grave in particular: Josie's. He could pick it out from the distance. Though the little girl had been gone six years now and the pain of grief had passed, he still missed her fiercely.

"Watch over her, God," he whispered as he closed his eyes and sighed.

Just then, General Tavington felt a tugging on his pants leg. He looked down and found Millie beside him, proudly holding up a bouquet of wildflowers she'd gathered.

"Fowers, ganpaw," she said in her tiny voice, craning her head back, looking up at her beloved grandfather.

William folded his tall body and half to pick the girl up. He began to walk as he held her in his arms. "Yes, Mil, they're very pretty," commented Tavington, "but not as pretty as you are, my angel!" With that, he kissed her fondly in her blonde, curly hair.

"Do you want to put those on the graves?" he asked the little girl as he strolled toward the family cemetery.

Millie nodded quietly as her fingers played with the petals of the flowers. William walked along, his eyes still trained on Josie's grave a distance away. Millie's sudden wiggling in his arms stopped him in his track.

"Ganpaw! Bunny! Over dere!" she cried, pointing at a wild rabbit nibbling some grass nearby. Tavington set her down on the ground where she promptly dropped the flowers and began to chase the animal.

William smiled as he watched his beloved grandchild chase the rabbit. He sighed as he looked down and saw her wildflowers that she'd gathered, now lying askew on the ground at his feet where she dropped them to pursue the hare.

Still thinking of Josie, his mind traveled back years again to the days just after her death. He felt a tugging on his heart as he recalled how hard her death was to bear; on him, on his children. But it had been roughest on Melanie, who seemed to completely give up on living after the girl died. William recollected how she took to their bed for over a month after the funeral, only rising to go sit on their daughter's grave once a day. Her grieving alone had been hard on their other children, and equally as rough on him.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

_Late Spring 1798…._

After eating lunch, General Tavington walked upstairs to his bedroom to check on his grieving wife. It was now about six weeks since Josephine, their young daughter, had passed away and Melanie still grieved alone in the solace of their bedchamber.

William walked into the room, his booted feet making a cadence on the wooden floor that Mrs. Tavington hadn't noticed. Indeed, she sat in her nightgown on the window seat, absently looking at one of Josie's dolls as she held it in her hands.

Tavington stared at his wife, who hadn't acknowledged his presence, still gazing sadly at the doll she clutched. As he looked at Melanie, something in him broke. He realized that he could no longer stomach her grieving alone when Josie's loss was something that affected the whole family. He took a deep breath in order to keep himself under control, knowing that he could lose patience with her very quickly.

After another moment, he slammed the door behind him and locked it. This brought Melanie from her thoughts and made her look up at him, finally.

She gazed at her husband who stood staring at her from the door. She said nothing, making no apologies, then looked down sadly at the floor.

"I've missed you," he began simply.

Melanie looked up at him, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

He walked toward her and spoke again, emphatically, his words slow and calculated. "I mean…..I've missed you," he continued, "as my wife, as a mother, and as my lover. I've missed you."

"I'm right here," she answered, shaking her head quizzically.

"No you're not! You cloistered yourself away from everyone weeks ago right after we buried Josie."

"What am I supposed to do, William? How do you expect me to act? I loved her! I miss her!"

"We all loved her and miss her as much, Melanie!"

"But I'm her mother," she countered, tears in her eyes now. "She was my youngest. She still needed me so much."

"And there are four other children downstairs who need you just as much," argued William.

"No. They're older and they can—"

"They may be older," Tavington interrupted, "but they need you in other ways. They need you in the ways that older children still need their mother."

William now stood over Melanie where she sat, looking down at her. "Good Lord, Melanie. Mary needs you. She is getting married and wants to know how to be a wife. And Will is set to inherit this farm. And though he works beside me and I have taught him how to manage this plantation, he really wants to know how Grandfather Prescott handled things, and only you can share that with him."

"Stop it, Will," Melanie screamed tearfully before burying her face in her hands. The guilt was biting at her heart and soul.

"No, I won't! You need to know how selfish you've been!," exclaimed Tavington. "Regina has taken this hard. I've held her as she has cried and tried to comfort her as best as I could, but she needs you."

William went on with his tirade. "She's declared that she doesn't want to have children as she doesn't want to see any of them die. All I could do was apologize to her in advance, for that whoever she marries may demand an heir."

"And Alexander," Tavington continued. "Even though he's 12, he doesn't understand why he's had three siblings die as babes, and now his closest sister is gone."

William took a breath. Telling her about how all this was affecting their youngest son, Alex, threatened to nearly make him break into tears, as well.

"Alex has tried so hard to be brave and not cry—especially in front of me," William informed his wife. "He always tries to prove to me that he's becoming a man, but he broke down last night and wept while I held him. All he could do was tell me that he was humiliated to cry in front of his father, but he admitted that weeping in your presence wouldn't be so embarrassing. He needs his mother."

"I hoped we would grieve as a family," William said, "I hoped that you and I might grieve together."

Guilt completely engulfed Melanie as she listened to her husband's impassioned words. She rose from her seat and threw herself into Tavington's arms, sobbing onto his chest and holding him tightly.

"Oh my God, William," she sobbed, "I'm so sorry. I just…..I just….I didn't know what to do. She's gone."

Tavington kissed her head as he held his wife. After another moment of comforting her, he tipped her chin up to where he looked at her tear stained face. They looked into each other's eyes, each helpless and surrendering to their grief. Both suddenly remembered that it had been weeks since they had had relations, something that wasn't thought of as they sat with a dying child weeks before and in the days after. Now, both wanted to find comfort in each other's body, in their bed.

They kissed for the first time in weeks. A deep, long kiss, both not wanting it to end. William moved them both toward the bed as he frantically removed his cravat, then his vest and shirt equally as fast. At the bedside, Melanie stepped out of her night gown as her hands went to undo the buttons on her husband's trousers.

She laid on her back on the bed as Will joined her, kicking off his boots and pushing his stockings off, the last of his clothes. As they kissed, William's hand moved up and down her skin, reacquainting him with the body he knew so well.

Tavington urged his wife gently to roll over onto her stomach. The man then positioned himself between her legs and thrust in from behind her with a hearty groan of relief. Melanie gasped as she felt his kisses teasing her shoulders and back of her neck. The woman pushed up on her elbows, turning her head slightly, her hungry mouth seeking a kiss from her husband. He rewarded her with a searing kiss as he pushed and swerved insistently in and out of her wetness.

"Oh, William, I've missed you," she murmured as she grasped at the bedsheets, holding on as his body moved hers.

"I love you. I've needed you," Tavington whispered, nearly panting for breath, into her ear.

Suddenly, in the midst of Melanie's euphoria at feeling her husband's hardness inside her again, she remembered her grief. The woman then felt guilty that she and her husband were drawing pleasure from one another's bodies as their youngest child lay cold and dead in the dark ground. She buried her face in the pillow, trying to hide her sobs from William, not wanting to spoil his ecstasy.

But as Will made love to her, he could feel her no longer responding to him. He slowed his thrusts to a gentle sway and put his lips to her ear.

"What is it, my love?", he asked. When she didn't asked her, he rolled her body back over onto her back. Still beneath his body, he looked into her face with concern, and could see the tears in her eyes.

"Melanie, what's wrong?"

"Oh Will, should we even be…." She sobbed questioningly.

He surmised her feelings of guilt for making love while in the midst of grieving. Tavington wanted nothing more than to soothe her regret and put her at ease.

"Darling, we draw strength and consolation from each other," he whispered. "This is just another means of comfort."

"William, tell me that the grief doesn't last," cried Mrs. Tavington as she looked into her husband's eyes.

"It won't, Melanie. We will get through this in time." He brushed a loving kiss across her cheek.

"Promise me that we will be happy again," she sobbed, looking helplessly up at Tavington above her.

William's hand stroked her hair back from her face. "Of course we will," he comforted. "Mary and Jim are getting married, and we'll have grandchildren to look forward to, and joy from the other children, as well."

Melanie threaded her fingers into William's hair, then pulled his head down to hers. Their lips met in a hard kiss, reassuring each other of their love and passion for one another.

She soon wrapped her legs around his waist, holding him firmly between them. With her arms she pulled his body against hers, closing the space between, holding him so tightly; so close.

Soon Tavington's gentle plunging into her became firm strokes again, coaxing both of them toward the edge. After a moment, Tavington lost control to his manly need and drilled himself frantically into her, and both he and Melanie came together, calling out each other's names.

They spent the remainder of the afternoon together in their bed, lying in each other's arms, spending much needed time getting to know each other and consoling each other again.

After that, even in their grief, they never again let so many weeks go by again without having much needed relations with each other.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

_Fall…1798_

Mrs. Tavington walked out onto the front veranda and looked about the green for her husband. She soon spied the general near the main barn talking with one of the farmhands as the young man got into one of the mill's buckboards, loaded heavily with barrels and bags of milled goods. She waited for a moment, allowing William a minute to give the last minute instructions to his employee before the worker left for town deliveries.

Melanie descended the steps and crossed the lane toward her husband where he stood watching the wagon leave. Tavington turned just as she neared him. He sighed heavily as he gave her a slight smile, saying nothing.

"Are you free for a few minutes," she asked, looking up at him demurely, "Might we take a walk?"

"Of course," the retired officer said in a lost voice.

The two turned to walk side by side. Melanie's hand soon found William's, where she fondly entwined her fingers with his. They walked along for a moment quietly, just enjoying the warmth of the day and being near one another.

"The green seems so quiet today," Melanie commented. "Just a few days ago it was filled with wedding guests and we were all celebrating with Mary and Jimmy."

"Yes," Tavington agreed, shortly.

The two strolled on in silence. William seemed to be lost in his thoughts. His wife wondered what he was thinking.

"You were awfully quiet at supper last evening," Melanie began, "and this morning at breakfast. Something wrong?"

After a long sigh, William surprisingly answered his wife. "Oh, I miss our Mary."

Melanie smiled sweetly up at her husband. She knew he loved his children immensely, but his sentimentality really caught her by surprise.

"I didn't think she'd get married so soon," he sighed. "I'll always think of her as my little girl."

"But she had to grow up sometime, darling," his wife replied. "And you know that she is so thrilled to be married to Jim, she loves him so. They will be such a happy couple."

"I know you're right," Tavington agreed.

"I wonder what they're doing on their honeymoon?" Melanie asked as they walked along. Jim had taken his new bride to Charles Towne for their first time away as a married couple.

William's sudden stop forced Melanie to do so as well. Tavington broke into laughter at his wife's comment, which struck him funny.

"They're doing what all newly married couples do on their honeymoon," he laughed. "They're not leaving their bedroom."

"Oh, William," she said rolling her eyes at her husband. She was glad he could at least laugh in the midst of missing his oldest, newly married daughter.

"He'll probably bring her back to us with her belly already full," William said sarcastically. The man was more than aware that a first grandchild could arrive nine months from the day of the wedding.

Tavington suddenly stopped in the middle of his train of thought and switched directions, his mood becoming serious. "Speaking of which," he contemplated aloud, "we need to get the nursery furniture moved to their house before they return."

Mary had expressed to her mother and father, before marrying Jim, that she would like to have the nursery furniture that they Tavington's had raised her and her siblings in. The girl couldn't say why she found the set so special, just that she wanted it for the babies that she would have with Jimmy. William and Melanie had agreed to let her have it and were happy that she wanted it.

"Um…William…I've been thinking," Mrs. Tavington began, "Maybe since they are starting a new life together, maybe they'd prefer instead to have a new set of nursery furniture. We could pay for a new set of their choosing—"

"A new set?" Tavington questioned. "Mary had her heart set on _ours_. She wanted it as an heirloom."

"Yes, I know but—" Melanie stopped in midsentence, her puzzled husband looking down at her.

"But what?" asked William, a little irritated.

Melanie was quiet for a moment, then took a deep breath. "She can't have them."

"Why not?"

"Because we're going to need them," answered Melanie. "We're going to have a baby."

William was taken aback, his tongue truly tied. He wasn't sure he'd heard his wife correctly.

"Another child?" he asked, seeking confirmation. "You're pregnant? Are you sure?"

"Yes. I've been sick and I've missed three monthlies," his wife answered.

"Three?" exclaimed William, a little bit of anger showing through. "You're this far along and you're only now telling me, woman!"

"William, I didn't want anything to take away from Mary and Jimmy's wedding day," she said. "And news like this would have just caused gossip."

Tavington turned away and took a few steps from his wife. He was still in disbelief from hearing the news and felt that his legs may go out from under him at the revelation. So much had happened in the last six months of their lives: their youngest daughter died suddenly, their oldest daughter just married, and now, at an older age with older children, they were having another baby!

He turned back to look at his wife. "This can't be. We're too old. My God, Melanie, you're 42; I'm 48! You haven't carried a child in 9 years!"

"Women _can_ have babies at older ages, William."

Tavington kept his trepidation to himself. Ever since Worthe was stillborn 16 years ago, and with the other miscarriages and deaths, William would worry for his wife whenever she became pregnant. The fright was there even more now due to how old Melanie was. The man knew he would have to fight hard to keep his fear inside in order not to frighten his wife.

"Well, I thought the next baby we would hold would be our first grandchild," William said in a resigned tone. "I was wrong."

"It's no matter, Will," she said, beaming happily up at him. "I'm thrilled that we're going to have another child."

William pulled his wife into an embrace where he kissed her lovingly. "It's a surprise I have to admit."

Melanie turned in her husband's arms away from him, her back to his chest. He tightened his arms around her, and his hands instinctively slipped to her belly, hoping to feel the swell of the child within. William leaned down to kiss his wife's head, then nuzzled her ear.

"Mmmm….You haven't had your hands on my belly…. in years," she said slowly, not wanting to say, for fear of going to tears, 'since the day Josephine was born.'

"You haven't had a child in your belly in years," he whispered lovingly.

"Everything will be alright, you'll see," Melanie said hopefully.

"I know," William said as his hands caressed his wife's abdomen.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/


	88. Epilogue Part 4 Love And Memories

Epilogue Part 4 Love And Memories

_Late summer 1804…._

General Tavington shaded his eyes from the sun with his hand as he looked over at his grandson, Jamie, sitting in the grass now holding the shepherd puppy. William smiled as he watched little Millie skip over to her brother and animatedly tell him about the bunny that had just hopped away from her.

Tavington knelt down and gathered the wildflowers that his granddaughter had dropped in the grass back into a bouquet. He clasped it and brought it to his nose, breathing in the fresh scent. He closed his eyes and smiled as he kept recalling the memory of Melanie's last pregnancy. The older children were surprised, but happy that their parents were pleased to be having another child. And as Melanie carried the child, it was a happy and welcome distraction to she and William, helping to keep their mind occupied with the impending baby and easing the grief over their beloved Josie's death.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

_January 1799…._

"It's a boy, General," Mrs. Dexter called from the door.

"A boy?" Tavington echoed from the sitting alcove on the second floor of his house where he'd spent the time many times before waiting for all his children to be born. "I have another son!"

The man jumped to his feet, hardly able to breathe at the excitement and relief of this last child's birth. His son-in-law, Jimmy Wilkins, whose wife Mary Tavington Wilkins was helping to attend her own mother in delivery, stood to his feet as well, smiling at his happy and overwhelmed father-in-law.

"Congratulations sir!" he said, shaking the general's hand.

"Thank you, Jim."

Tavington anxiously ran to the bedchamber door, shoving his booted foot into the doorway so that the midwife couldn't close it. "How is my wife? When can I see her?"

"Sir she's had a rough labor and is tired and weak," she replied. "We'll call you in a few minutes when you may visit."

"My thanks." William turned back just in time to hear his son-in-law yelling down at his own father, James Wilkins, as he leaned over the banister.

"Father wants us to come downstairs to your office," Jimmy informed. "Seems he just arrived with one of our finest champagnes to open. He wishes to toast the family's newest arrival." Young Wilkins did indeed feel part of the family with his marriage to Mary, having been welcomed in warmly.

William didn't want to leave, but knew it might be awhile before he could see Melanie and hold the baby. He accepted the invitation to go downstairs and celebrate with a bottle of bubbly from the Wilkins' own winery.

Melanie Tavington had gone into labor the evening before. It had been among her longest, roughest, and most painful deliveries. William had spent the night at her bedside, rubbing her back and doing and saying anything to comfort her. When the midwife arrived earlier in the day and shooed the men out, the expectant father, not having been in the position for nine years, picked up his actions like old hat. He spent the hours alternately sitting and pacing the floor upstairs near the bedroom.

Tavington was able to relax a little with his neighbor and close friend James, and his daughter's young husband. Major Wilkins took the opportunity to tease his friend and ask how many more Tavington's they were to expect now. Jimmy joined in as well, saying that Mary had hoped to become with child soon, anxious to give her husband an heir.

After nearly an hour had passed, of which the men lost track of time, their impromptu celebration was shattered by Mary's frantic shouts. "Father! Father! Come quickly!"

The three men set their drinks down and walked out of the office and into the large gallery. They looked up at the second floor to see Mary leaning anxiously over the railing.

"You must come now, papa!"

With that, Tavington immediately began to worry and bolted up the stairway. The Wilkins men followed behind, not able to keep up with the anxious man.

Mary went back into the bedroom. Tavington reached the door just as the doctor was coming through it. The physician had been called to come help attend the delivery due to the woman's older age.

"General, a word, please," the Doctor said, barely able to hold the stronger Tavington back from entering the bedroom. By this time, James and Jimmy Wilkins had reached the second floor and stood within earshot of General Tavington and Dr. Cutler.

"General Tavington, your wife and the baby aren't doing well," he informed.

"What do you mean?" an alarmed William asked.

"Your son's pulse and breathing have weakened."

William closed his eyes and sucked in a breath. All he could think of was that Melanie could not go through the grief of losing another infant. She had taken the deaths of all of them before so hard. He needed to see her and comfort her.

"And your wife," the doctor continued. These words pulled William from his momentary concern of how to comfort his wife.

"She isn't doing well. This delivery has significantly weakened her body. Also, she has lost a large amount of blood. We haven't been able to get the hemorrhaging to stop. All we've been able to do is slow it."

William was confused. He wasn't sure he was hearing the doctor correctly or even understanding what the man told him.

"Is it childbed fever?" asked Tavington. "She will recover with a few days rest—"

"No, General," the doctor said, shaking his head. "She's lost too much blood and is too weak to recover. She doesn't have much longer."

"What?" , he exclaimed. With that, William stepped past the doctor and burst into the bedroom. "No! Melanie!"

He ran to the bed, kneeling at the side of it and taking his wife's hand. His own head spun at the sights around him. Regina and Mary were both crying; Bridget was holding the baby, massaging his back to urge him to keep breathing. The midwife was at the foot of the bed, reaching forward, with a hand on Melanie's swollen abdomen. And there was a pile of blood soaked linens and bed sheets piled near the bed.

Melanie's skin color was a pale white, her hair matted to her head with sweat, her eyes barely open. He felt the room starting to spin about him, overwhelmed by how everything had gotten out of control and how quickly it had happened. Tavington held his wife's hand even tighter as he grabbed a fist full of sheet to steady him, feeling as though he would fall to the floor.

William spoke to her. "Darling, we have a son. Have you seen him?" He could feel his throat starting constrict and his eyes filling with tears.

"Yes," Melanie said weakly, giving her husband's hand a feeble squeeze. "I want to name him Henry. And James, after Major Wilkins, for his middle name."

"Of course, darling," he said, trying to keep his voice strong, "Anything you wish."

Tavington leaned in closer to his wife. She weakly turned her head to look at him, hardly having the strength to hold her eyes open. Her eyes, wet and misty, barely focused on her husband's.

"Melanie, listen to me," he pleaded, "I need you. Our children need you. So you must fight, darling."

Mrs. Tavington forced a smile as a tear ran down her cheek. "I'm cold, Will," she whispered.

William pulled himself up from kneeling. He grabbed another blanket that lay on a nearby chair as he sat down on the bed near his ailing wife, his back to the headboard. The general pulled her weak body into his arms so that it was half in his lap, half on the bed. Tavington threw the blanket over her, tucking it in loosely around her as his arms tightened about her body.

Tavington moved his head downwards and kissed his wife's lips gently; lovingly. She smiled a bit more, pleased at feeling his mouth on hers again.

"My dear, do you remember when we first met 20 years ago?" he murmured. "When we found you here, you were so badly hurt. But you lived; you fought to stay alive. You can do that now."

Melanie said nothing as her eyes closed. She was struggling to breathe, to stay coherent. The woman did indeed remember the painful ordeal of living through several stab wounds. She also realized that she was 20 years younger then, and her body hadn't been through the ravages of a suicide attempt and several miscarriages on top of the stabbing.

Mrs. Tavington knew she was dying. She was too exhausted to be afraid. And while she thought that soon she would be reunited with her parents and siblings, her lost infants, and her beloved Josie, more tears flowed down her face at the pain of having to leave William and her children behind.

"I'm the luckiest of wives," Melanie murmured to her husband. "You've made me so happy."

"And you've given me a life of joy," he answered, his voice quivering.

William kissed her head, nuzzling his lips into her blonde waves. He finally broke, his own tears flowing freely over his cheeks. "Stay with me Melanie,_ please_!"

"You're the love of my life, William," she wept feebly.

"Don't. Don't go, Melanie." William begged her through his own tears. He looked quickly about the room at his children and Bridget and the Wilkins family and how they all cried.

"I love you, William." With that, Mrs. Tavington's eyes closed. She no longer had the strength to hold them open.

"I love you so much, darling," he sobbed, holding her so tightly.

After another moment, he felt her body shudder a bit, then go limp. Tavington could no longer feel her hand weakly holding onto his; it just laid in his palm.

William sobbed aloud, burying his face in her blonde hair as he realized she was gone. This woman whom he'd shared his life with and loved so much, given him a second chance, given him children, was dead.

When the children saw that their mother had just died, Regina and Mary burst out and sobbed loudly. Will held his little brother Alex against him as they cried. Jim Wilkins held his wife, Bridget, sobbing as she remembered that _she_ was the one who first took care of Melanie when she first evaded death some twenty years ago.

"Melanie, oh Melanie," Tavington whispered into her hair as he wept, holding her limp body to his, "What am I to do without you?"

William continued to hold onto his dead wife's body as the initial round of sobbing within the room began to quiet. As he did, their 15 year old daughter Regina, from where she stood, stared at her father holding her mother. As she did, her sorrow turned to an unexplainable rage. Upset that her mother was taken from her so abruptly, she felt she had to place blame somewhere.

Regina Tavington soon stalked around to the other side of the bed, where her father sat with her mother's body. Her eyes were narrowed, full of painful tears and hate, as she looked down in contempt at her father.

"This is your fault!" she exclaimed in an accusing voice.

"Regina!" a grieving Mary yelled. She was surprised to see her sibling and father's sister's namesake reacting the way she was.

"No! It _is_ his fault!," she shot back. "If he wouldn't have made her pregnant! She had no business having a baby this late in life!"

"Regina, this is not anyone's fault," Bridget spoke up, knowing that her dead friend would not want the family at odds over her death. "It just happened. We don't know why

God—"

"God has nothing to do with it!," she screamed. "It was all father. I've heard what husbands can make their wives do!"

"Stop it!" young Will Tavington screamed, walking away from his brother Alexander.

General Tavington, consumed with grief, could scarcely register his daughter's accusations. He heard part of the words while the other words sounded as a harsh noise. William could only discern through his own heartbreak that his daughter was angry and it grieved him even more.

Finding the strength, William raised his tearstained face and reached out for his daughter, wanting to comfort her. "Regina, sweetheart—"

"No! You did this to her! You shouldn't have lain with her! You should have controlled yourself!" With that, Regina broke into tears again and ran from the room with her older brother Will in hot pursuit.

All William could do with everything happening around him was to continue sobbing onto his wife's cooling body. "Why? Why," he whispered, still wondering how his world got so out of control and could have changed so fast.

Outside the room, Will Tavington chased his sister down and caught up to her at the other end of the hallway. He grabbed her elbow and roughly put her back squarely against the wall.

"How dare you!" she yelled.

"No! How dare _you _accuse our father of such a thing!", he exclaimed. "This is NOT his fault!"

"Yes it is!" she argued.

"No it's not!," he countered, still keeping her pinned to the wall. "Husbands and wives have their own ways of soothing each other through dreadful times, and it is not up to us to question how mother and father sought comfort."

"He shouldn't have—"

"Stop this nonsense!," he scolded his sister. "You will go back in there immediately and apologize to our father. He doesn't need this heaped on his grief."

"No! I won't!" she shot back.

"Yes you will!" With that, Will forcefully took her arm and began to drag her back down the hallway toward their parent's bedchamber.

"You can't make me!"

"Regina, as long as father is in there incapacitated with grief, I am the head of this household," Will pointed out, still angry over her outburst to their father. "Now you will go back in there this instant."

"I won't!"

Suddenly, Will slapped her across the face hard. It knocked her back onto her heels and against the wall, as well as taking her breath away. Hot tears stung her eyes as she brought her hand up to soothe her stinging cheek.

Will Tavington had inherited the short temper and lack of patience from his father. And Regina's insolence in the face of her father's grief had pushed him over the edge.

"I can't believe you!" said Regina, stunned.

"Don't try me, Regina!," Will hissed through gritted teeth.

"You can't make me!," she continued on with her defiance. "I'll run away."

"No you won't! And if you should try, things will be worse on you—"

Regina's mouth dropped open at her brother's threat. "You wouldn't dare!"

Will let loose with another slap to his younger sister's face, this time harder. His eyes were narrowed at her as he growled, "There's your answer. Now get back in there and apologize to papa."

His sister, her palm on her cheek trying to cool it, began to cry as she turned to walk to the bedroom with Will hard behind her. She opened the door to find the room quiet, everyone lost in their own grief.

Regina walked around the bed to where her father sat in a chair, still holding his wife's hand. They tearfully embraced, and she apologized.

Shortly after that, Mary brought the weak baby Henry over to her father. Everyone else in the room had held the sickly infant, save for William.

"Papa, you should hold him," she said. Mary handed her infant brother over to her father as James Wilkins pulled a rocking chair up close to the bed.

William took the baby boy gently into his arms, cradling him there without saying anything. He let out a sigh as he sat down in the rocking chair, the same chair that he'd watched Melanie rock and nurse all over their children before.

"Just rock him, father," Mary coaxed quietly.

Tavington rocked the baby, looking quietly at the tiny thing. He noticed the dark hair on his head and caressed it with his large hand.

For the next hour, the room remained quiet as William Tavington held his youngest son and child. He wished that Melanie was alive to hold the child, yet thankful that she didn't have to live through another child's death. The baby whimpered weakly a couple of times, and opened his eyes equally as much to look at his father. The general quietly rocked the child.

Dr. Cutler monitored the situation closely, watching little Henry James Tavington in his father's arms. When he noticed that the infant hadn't cried or moved for a bit, he came to check on the baby.

After examining the baby quickly as his father still held him, the doctor put his hand on the general's shoulder. "I'm sorry, General Tavington. He's gone now."

William's eyes filled with tears again. He reverently laid the child down on the bed next to where his wife lay. Tavington then folded her arm around the child. Then he bent his tall frame downwards over the bed and smoothed Melanie's hair back.

He brushed a light kiss across her lips, then her cheek, and lastly her forehead. He shook his head as he closed his watery eyes. William whispered, "I'll always love you, Melanie."

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

_February 1799…._

A tired Mary Tavington Wilkins left her two wheeled buggy and horse in the hands of a stable hand at her parents' home. She lifted her dress as she walked slowly up the steps and onto the portico, then passing through the doorway and into the house.

Diedre greeted her and took her hat. "Good morning, Mrs. Wilkins. How is married life?"

"Still blissful after these few months," Mary replied cordially. "Where's father?"

The servant looked toward the general's empty officer where she had just been in. The maid noted what looked like a lot of paperwork stacked upon her master's desk.

"He hasn't come down yet today," Diedre answered with a sigh.

"I'll go up and visit with him," Mary replied with a reassuring smile.

The seventeen year old Mrs. Wilkins climbed the stairs to the second floor. She thought about the time since her mother's and infant brother Henry's funeral 6 weeks ago. Her father had become listless in his grief, truly not knowing what to do with himself with Melanie gone. Her twin brother Will had stepped into his father's spot, running the plantation while the elder Tavington grieved. And Mary had assisted her brother as best as she could, having more of a head for the paperwork part of the job.

They all missed Melanie so very much, but William had taken it the worst. He had been much as his wife had been nearly a year before. She had taken to her bed when Josie died, and now William did much the same, having only left the bedchamber for a daily visit to her grave and to check in with his son about the farm.

Mary knew that her father would grieve, but she thought, and had hoped, that he would take it in a more stoic fashion, possibly even choosing to work harder through the grief as a means of distraction. Indeed the general was a hard worker and not given to long periods of lying about, which made watching this even harder for the children to bear on top of their own grief.

"Papa! It's Mary. May I come in?"

There was no answer from within. Mrs. Wilkins waited another moment at the door, hoping to hear her father's voice. When she heard only silence, she turned the knob slowly and entered his bedroom.

"Papa?" The girl walked around to the side of the bed near her father.

William Tavington sat up in bed. "Ah, Mary, my girl."

"Good morning, father," she said, embracing him and kissing his cheek as she sat down on the side of the bed near him.

"Oh, Will has no head for math, Papa," she said with a smile. "I have to do the books for him—"

"He will learn in time as I did," Tavington said. Mary remembered him recounting to her how he had to step into his father's business and take it over from her drunkard grandfather. He learned everything quickly; a sort of baptism by fire into the business world.

"I know," Mary answered quietly.

A moment of silence passed between the two. Mary broke the quiet.

"Papa, I know this has been hard on you," she began, "but you are needed. You must try to get up and help with the plantation."

William sighed. Though he loved and adored his oldest daughter, he didn't wish to be scolded, even in the kindliest fashion, by anyone of his children.

But before he could say an irritated word, Mary interjected. "I won't be able to help Will out anymore. The doctor says I can't."

Tavington sat up straight with concern etched on his face. He took his daughter's hand. "But….why?...What's wrong?"

"Nothing serious," she assured him. "The doctor just says I have to take it easy and rest more."

William was distressed immediately and it showed. He was worried for his child.

Mary could see the worry and wanted to soothe her father. "Papa, you're going to be a grandfather."

Tavington was surprised and it took a moment for his daughter's words to register. A smile soon crossed his face as he squeezed her hand.

"Oh, Mary," he exclaimed, "That's wonderful!"

His hand dropped from hers and went immediately to her abdomen, his fingertips touching her belly. Mary looked lovingly down at it.

"Mary, rest assured that I will be up more and take a hand back in running this plantation," affirmed Tavington.

"I'm pleased and happy for you and Jim," William said. He held back his own tears as his heart broke inside him, wishing that Melanie could be beside him for this news and the blessed event of the birth.

At that moment, William Tavington saw what he had seen before: that despite death, life keeps going on elsewhere. He realized that he had continued to live and command after many of his soldiers had fallen around him; and he'd lived through the deaths of five of his young children. And now he was hearing the news that he would soon have his first grandchild. Yes, life did indeed go on. The general knew that he did have the strength to mourn his beloved wife's passing and to be a father and a grandfather without Melanie as his side.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

_1804….._

General Tavington stood at his wife's grave, recalling the bittersweetness of life after death. There had been much happiness in the 5 years since Melanie's death, and William had indeed relished having his children and grandchildren around him, as well as continued success in business. But his heart still ached for her, wishing she was by his side to enjoy the children growing and experience the joy of being a grandparent. He could only trust that she looked down from Heaven on the family.

"Ganpaw!"

William turned his head to see his granddaughter Millie skipping toward him. When she reached his feet, she began excitedly jumping, her arm extended, reaching up toward the bouquet of wild flowers that her grandfather held.

"Ganpaw! Me put fowers dair!," she said, pointing to Melanie's grave.

"Certainly, angel," he said, bending his tall frame down to hand her the flowers. She put them on her grandmother's grave, then smiled up at Tavington.

William smiled back at her. Mary and Jimmy had named her Melanie, but the family called her Millie for short. Tavington couldn't help but love intensely the grandchild named for his wife.

"Mama!," cried Millie, as she left William's side and ran toward her mother. Tavington turned to see his heavily pregnant daughter walking toward them. He sighed and scowled, wishing she would stay inside and rest instead of come outside into the hot afternoon sun_. Just like her mother, he thought, unwilling to rest while pregnant, always wanting to come out for a walk!_

Tavington remembered back about 4 years before, when Mary gave birth to Jamie, his first grandchild. He had worried for her during the pregnancy, thinking she might be like her mother and be prone to miscarriages. Then the day his daughter went into labor he worried that she would die in childbirth, as his own wife and her mother had done months before.

But when he was called in to see Mary after she'd given birth, he grasped her hand with tears in his eyes and a smile, relieved that she was fine. He gave thanks as Mary handed his grandson to him to hold for the first time, glad that the baby boy was healthy.

As Mary walked toward her father, she knew that he was standing at her mother's grave. She knew that he missed her dearly every day. Yet she had heard the rumors. She had heard the gossip that her father had taken up with a widow woman about 10 years his junior in Camden. But Mary knew that he was not in love with the woman as he still loved her mother deeply.

Indeed, General Tavington had met a pretty widow, her children grown and gone, in the town of Camden while he was there doing business. She ran a millinery shop. He only visited her there and would never bring her home to the plantation. He didn't love her and could never, but it was more just for a woman's company. Mary did understand that even though her mother had died, that her father still needed manly release.

William continued to watch his daughter waddle toward him. He remembered how she had stepped right into her mother's shoes after Melanie had passed on, becoming the hostess for plantation parties and functions. Tavington had been grateful that his daughter had wanted to take on Melanie's role.

After another moment, Mary finally reached her father. He put his arm around her as she leaned up on her tip toes to kiss his cheek.

"You shouldn't be out here, darling," he scolded gently, "You should be resting."

"Nonsense, Papa," she replied. "I needed some fresh air." Mary leaned over and lifted her daughter up with much effort.

"Ganpaw, baby!" Millie said to Tavington with a grin as she touched her mother's very swollen belly.

"Yes, Millie."

Mary kissed her daughter then set her back down, unable to hold the toddler for too long in her condition. "I know you miss her so much, papa," she commented.

He sighed heavily. "I wish she was here to experience being a grandparent with me," he admitted.

Tavington went on. "Thank you for stepping up and taking on your mother's duties," he said.

"Father, you don't have to thank me for that. I've enjoyed helping when I could," she answered.

William put his arm around his daughter and pulled her to him, where he kissed her forehead. "You are the light of my life, Mary! You have brought me much joy."

"Thank you, Father," she said shyly.

With that, William offered his arm to his daughter, who willingly hooked her arm through his. Mary took Millie's hand as she turned to look at her son.

"Jamie, bring the puppy and come along now back to the house!"

"Yes, mama!" he called, gathering the puppy into his arms.

Mary began to stroll back toward the house with her father. Suddenly, the baby within her began to kick and move furiously, stopping her in her tracks.

Her hand moved to her abdomen. The young mother looked downwards, able to see her dress lift and roll a bit as the baby moved and fluttered about within her.

"What is it?" William exclaimed, always alarmed when it came to a pregnancy.

"Oh, he's awake now," Mary said with a smile, caressing her rounded belly.

Tavington smiled. He reached his hand out and placed it on his daughter's pregnant abdomen. She moved his hand slightly to position it over where the baby kicked.

He chuckled aloud as he felt a hard kick. "He's busy, isn't he…..or she?"

"I think it is a boy," she stated. "And if it is, Jim and I have decided to name him 'William'."

Tavington smiled, his heart filled with love and hope. "I'd like that," he simply replied.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/


	89. Epilogue Part 5 All Good Things End

Epilogue Part 5 All Good Things End

William and Melanie's four children grew into adulthood and success. By all accounts, the family remained close, and William was especially thankful that his youngest remaining daughter, Regina, who had taken her mother's death exceptionally hard, had finally quit blaming her father for her death and their difference on that had been resolved.

General William Tavington's life came to a peaceful end in the Autumn of 1809, ten years after his beloved wife had passed. He'd lived to see such success of his plantation and continued to further what his father-in-law, Hayden Prescott, had built. The former cavalry officer amassed a fortune for the farm and his children and grandchildren.

His youngest son, Alexander, had come down from Charlotte for a visit. The young man had studied the law and was quickly building a successful law practice there. He had become a handsome lad, one of the most eligible in both the Carolinas.

William and his son had taken a leisurely walk about the plantation that day. Alex had parted from his father for a moment to greet a messenger on horseback and collect a letter from the boy. As he turned back to walk back to join the elder man again, Alexander Tavington watched his father collapse on the grass. He raced to where his father lay and saw the unmistakable look of a pain on his face as his hand clutched his chest. Alex dropped to his knees and gathered his papa into his arms. The old cavalry officer lasted only a couple of moments, long enough to whisper a few words to his son, then died in Alex's arms.

Later, when the family gathered for the funeral, Alexander shared with his siblings what their father had told him. He told Alex that he was proud of all his children and pleased that they were all happy. He also said that he had missed their mother painfully over the last 10 years. Strangely, the last thing William told his son was that he could see Melanie standing near, and she was waiting for him.

"I love you all," he murmured to Alex in a raspy voice, "I am happy to go to your mother now." The old general then closed his eyes and died, gone at age 59.

General Tavington left a generous inheritance behind for all his children and grandchildren, and was even good to the servants. Mary, Alexander, and Regina and their offspring and spouses received large fortunes. William Jr, received the same as well as inheriting the Prescott Tavington family plantation and business.

William Tavington Jr. finally married Cora Wilkins, second oldest of James and Bridget Wilkins' brood. Cora had become a widow after her first husband, an older gentleman from North Carolina, had died of fever after only months of marriage. She had married him when she had become tired of waiting on young Will to ask her. Tavington knew he'd made a mistake and was more hurt than he ever thought he could be to see her marry another man. The young couple, though, could not resist their love for each other and soon entered into an illicit affair. Her older husband died not knowing that Cora had been unfaithful during their short marriage. However, Will Tavington once again dragged his feet and didn't rush to marry the young widow after her husband had passed on. But when she found herself with child—Will's child as it happened months after she'd become widowed, he didn't hesitate to take responsibility and marry Cora.

She loved living adjacent to her parents' plantation and making a home for she and Will's family on the Tavington's farm. The plantation continued to have success through Will and Cora's life together, and the couple had seven children, four girls and three boys. Cora and Will, though they loved each other deeply, often had a turbulent marriage, as Will had inherited his father's infamous temper.

Jimmy and Mary Tavington Wilkins enjoyed a long life together. Jim continued to work alongside his father in the Wilkins family winery and distillery business. He and Mary raised ten children, five boys and five girls, on their fine plantation.

Alex Tavington had a flourishing law practice in Charlotte. He remained a bachelor into his early thirties, when he met a young woman from a wealthy family in Savannah. He married Hope Ranston, a beautiful girl 12 years younger than him. The couple had 5 children, 4 sons and 1 daughter, all raised in Charlotte, North Carolina. They, too, had a long happy marriage.

Regina Tavington met a successful shipping merchant in Charles Towne named Tom Bilford. She married him at age 20, after a whirlwind courtship, with her father's approval. The couple were madly in love and stayed that way throughout their short life together in a lavish home in Charles Towne. Regina proved to have trouble with pregnancy as her mother did. She bore Tom two children, a boy and girl, early in their marriage. She then had a series of miscarriages over the next few years. She died in childbirth as did their third child, a girl, at the young age of 38 after only 18 years of marriage. Tom Bilford never remarried, throwing himself into his work with his shipping business, and devoting himself to his two remaining children, George and Josephine, who were young teenagers when their mother passed away. The Bilfords found comfort in their visits with the many Tavington family cousins, and brother-in-laws and sister-in-laws.

Bridget and James Wilkins lived together into their old age, James running the family spirits business alongside his sons. They had 9 children, 5 boys and 4 girls, two children of which had married into their good friends' and neighbors', the Tavington's family. They lived to see and enjoy many grandchildren and some great grandchildren, as well. After 48 years of marriage, James and Bridget died in their late sixties, within 3 months of each other.

And thus our story, a long one, ends.


	90. Primary and Secondary Historical Resourc

**Historical and Writing resources: Primary and Secondary**

**Books:**

Ammer, Christine The American Heritage Dictionary of Idioms  Boston Houghton Mifflin 1997

Babits, Lawrence E. A Devil Of a Whipping: The Battle of Cowpens Chapel Hill, NC The University of North Carolina Press 1998

Bakeless, John Background to Glory: The Life of George Rogers Clark Philadelphia J.B. Lippincott 1957

Bass, Robert D. The Green Dragoon  Orangeburg, NC Henry Holt & Co. Sandlapper Publishing 1957

Berkin, Carol Revolutionary Mothers: Women In The Struggle For America's Independence New York Random House 2005

Bicheno, Hugh Rebels and Redcoats, The American Revolutionary War  London Harper Collins 2003

Buchanan, John The Road to Guilford Courthouse, the American Revolution in the Carolinas Canada John Wiley and Sons 1997

Carstens, Kenneth C. and Nancy S. editors , et al The Life of George Rogers Clark, 1752-1818 Triumphs and Tragedies Westport, CT Praeger Publishers 2004

Cleland, John Fanny Hill: Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure London 1748

Earle, Alice Morse Home Life in Colonial Days New York Grosset and Dunlap 1898

Grose, Frances 1785 Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue London 1785 This edition 1971 by Digest Books Northfield, Il

Hawke, David Freeman Everyday Life in Early America New York Harper & Row 1988

Kalman, Bobbie 18th Century Clothing  New York Crabtree Publishing Co. 1993

Lederer, Jr, Richard M. Colonial American English  Essex, CT Verbatim 1985

Martin, Joseph Plum Private Yankee Doodle United States Little, Brown & Co. 1962

Moss, Kay A Backcountry Herbal Gastonia, NC Schiele Museum 1993

Moss, Kay K. Southern Folk Medicine 1750-1820 Columbia, SC University of South Carolina Press 1999

Scoggins, Michael C. Relentless Fury The Revolutionary War In The Southern Piedmont  Rock Hill, SC Culture And Heritage Museums 2006

Scotti, Jr. ,Anthony J. Brutal Virtue: The Myth and Reality of Banastre Tarleton Westminster, MD Heritage Books 1995

Seifert, Shirley Waters of the Wilderness  New York J.B. Lippincott Co. 1941

Tarleton, Sir Banastre  A History Of The Campaigns Of 1780 And 1781, In The Southern Provinces Of North America London Cadell 1787

Taylor, Dale The Writer's Guide To Everyday Life In Colonial America From 1607-1783  Cincinnati Writer's Digest Books 1997

Thom, James Alexander From Sea to Shining Sea New York Ballantine Books 1984

Thom, James Alexander Long Knife  New York Ballantine Books 1979

Tierney, Tom Colonial And Early American Fashions Minneola, NY Dover Publications 1999

Walker, Niki Colonial Women New York Crabtree Publishing 2003

Wilbur, C. Keith The Revolutionary Soldier 1775-1783 Guilford, CT Globe Pequot Press 1969

Wood, W. J. Battles of the Revolutionary War 1775-1781 Chapel Hill, NC Algonquin Books 1990

**DVDs/TV Series:**

Battlefield Detectives: The American Revolution—Battle of Cowpens Series producer David Wasson Directed and Produced by David Wright History Television Network Productions for A&E Television Networks 2004

Brad Meltzer's Decoded: The President's Inner Circle-The Culper Spy Ring Go Go Luckey Productions for A&E Television Networks 2011

Frontier Legends of the Old Northwest: The Long Knives  Directed and Produced by Gary Foreman and Native Sun Productions for The History Channel/A&E Television Networks 1998

Lewis And Clark: Great Journey West Directed and produced by Karen Goodman and Kirk Simon for National Geographic 2003

The American Revolution Lisa Bergoujian director Greystone Productions for A&E Television Networks 1994

The Crossing Director Robert Harmon Based on the novel by Howard Fast, perf. Jeff Daniels A&E Television Networks 2000

The Frontier: Decisive Battles—Kings Mountain Directed and produced by Gary Foreman Native Sun Productions for the History Channel/A&E Television networks 2000

The Real George Washington National Geographic Productions Directed and produced by Tucker Bowen 2008

The Revolution Alexander Emmert and Peter Schnall directors Partisan Pictures for the History Channel 2007

The Revolutionary War Carol Fleischer Director Real TV Inc for The Learning Channel 1995

The XY Factor: Sex in the American Revolution Producer: Brian Coughlin Director Craig Haffner Greystone Communications for The History Channel A&E Television Networks 2001

Washington's Generals Cosgrove/Meurer Productions for The History Channel Robert M. Wise Director Raymond Bridgers Producer 2006

Washington The Warrior  Cosgrove/Meurer Productions for The History Channel Robert M. Wise Director Raymond Bridgers Producer 2006

**Websites:**

. Buchan's Domestic Medicine 1785 edition

. Brigadier General George Rogers Clark's Memoir of the Illinois Campaign 1779

. Major Joseph Bowman's field diary kept during the Illinois Campaign 1779

. Governor Henry Hamilton's journal from the Northwest Territory 1778-1781

sc-links/ John Robertson American Revolution Website

. #colonialfare

. The American Revolution in the Carolinas

/ The Merriam-Webster online Dictionary and Thesaurus

The Etymology Online Dictionary

Memoirs and Letters of Frederika Von Riedesil during the American Revolution Harvard University Library on line

**Research: Places Visited**

_Battlefields and Forts:_

Blackstocks Plantation site, South Carolina

Camden Battlefield, South Carolina

Cowpens National Battlefield, South Carolina

Fort 96, South Carolina

Fort Knox II, Knox County, Indiana

Fort Moultrie, South Carolina

Fort Quiatenon, Indiana

Fort Sumter, South Carolina

George Rogers Clark National Historical Park, home of Fort Sackville and battle, Vincennes, IN

Gettysburg National Battlefield, Pennsylvania

Gloucester Point, Virginia

Guilford Courthouse National Battlefield, North Carolina

King's Mountain National Battlefield, South Carolina

Musgrove Mill Farm Battlefield, South Carolina

Perryville Battlefield, Kentucky

Yorktown National Battlefield, Virginia

_Historic Homes:_

Ashlawn/Highland, Virginia

Biltmore Mansion, North Carolina

Cairnton, Tennessee

Carter's Grove Plantation, Virginia

Clark's Point Cabin, Indiana

Drayton Hall, South Carolina

Grouseland Mansion, Indiana

Hampton Plantation, South Carolina

Historic Brattonsville, South Carolina

Kershaw Cornwallis Home, South Carolina

Lincoln Boyhood Home National Park, Indiana

Locust Grove Plantation, Kentucky

Magnolia Plantation, South Carolina,

Middleton Place, South Carolina

Monticello, Virginia

Montpelier Plantaion, Virginia

Mount Vernon, Virginia

Mulberry Hill, former land for Clark homestead, Kentucky

The Hermitage, Tennessee

Walnut Grove Plantation, South Carolina

_Historic Buildings:_

Dobbin House Tavern, Pennsylvania

Michie Tavern, Virginia

Provost Dungeon, South Carolina

_Historic Places:_

Asheville, North Carolina

Cave Country, Kentucky

Charles Towne Landing, South Carolina

Chimney Rock, North Carolina

Conner Prairie Historical Park, Indiana

Edisto Island, South Carolina

Hendersonville, North Carolina

Historic Downtown Charleston, South Carolina

Historic Jamestown, Virginia

Historic Lexington, Virginia

Historic Vincennes, Indiana

Historic Williamsburg, Virginia

Kiawah Island, South Carolina

Louisville, Kentucky

Sullivan Island, South Carolina

UVA Military Institute, Virginia

Washington, DC, Virginia

_Museums:_

(see above museums with various homes, forts, battlefields)

Indiana State Museum, Indiana

Museum of Westward Expansion/St. Louis Arch, Missouri

Smithsonian Museums, Washington, DC

**Various Historical Sources and events**

(reenactments, etc, people)

Illinois Regiment of Virginia Reenactors, Midwest Unit

John Robertson, South Carolina

Marg Baskin, South Carolina

David Hast, Michigan

Clark March sponsored by George Rogers Clark National Historical Park, Indiana

Vincennes Rendezvous, annual gathering and reenactment, Indiana

Feast of the Hunter's Moon annual gathering and reenactment, Indiana


End file.
